


A Game of Chess (Cold War Rusame)

by How_are_we_alive109



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A lot more chapters are coming, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development, Cold War, Cute scenes, Everyone Needs A Hug, For all the updates, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I put too much effort in this, M/M, Psychotic antagonist, Wholesome, You should come back in like a month or two, planned out, so much character development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 79,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/How_are_we_alive109/pseuds/How_are_we_alive109
Summary: It's the 1950's and Alfred and Ivan have broken up after a major conflict between the two. Alfred just wants to move on, while Ivan isn't as willing to let go. In the midst of dealing with stress and paranoia, our favorite American also has to deal with an unpredictable temporary room mate who is still processing through the traumatic separation with his brother. One guy who's loved by the world, and one who's being punished by it. Who knew that it was so easy to overlook differences when the only thing you had in common was trauma?This is just a RusAme fanfic, there's really just a nice platonic friendship being formed with Alfred and Ludwig, with sprinkles of Gerita brought by your favorite hero.Updates are every 2 weeks :P
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), America/USSR | Soviet Union (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 77





	1. Tensions

_Marseilles, France_

_September 30th 1950_

_2:40 PM_

It's been around five years since World War Two. And yet, tension around the G8 hasn't settled between everyone yet. Well mostly everyone. For the Allies, they were all getting along with each other except for one of the members. 

Ivan didn't seem to see the appeal in getting all buddy-buddy with the rest of the Allies, but it's not like everyone else saw the appeal in getting to know him better either. He didn't really care for them. He had his own family, a union that he had groveled and scraped together. And frankly, he was proud of the family he made even if they did cry sometimes. But there was one person he was missing from the family he was always lacking.

Sitting next to Arthur was Alfred beaming in pride introducing a couple of plans from his little program, he didn't bother to listen. Whatever he was going to spout today, he probably didn't need to know. A pen twirled in his fingers absentmindedly as he continued to stare at the American. 

It would've been so wonderful, just the two of them. But Alfred didn't see it that way. He just wanted world peace, a place where they could live in harmonious agreement. _'How idiotic'_ He thought to himself. The pen fell from his grasps, though it didn't draw any attention from the current attenders of the meeting which he frankly didn't mind. 

_'If you want to survive in this world, you need raw power.'_ He reminded himself, finding Alfred's belief to be rather innocent and well, unrealistic.

Those were the last words he said to Alfred after their argument. The American shuddered, trying to focus less on Ivan's stares boring into his face and more on his talk about his current funds. Apparently he was doing pretty good. Mostly everyone in the conference room was taking notes. Everyone but the Eastern European group of course. It actually raised his confidence a bit, knowing that everyone was able to follow his presentation.

However the general that accompanied him here seemed less uneasy than all the other generals that had been in the same room with any soviet member. Alfred snuck a glance at the General who President Truman suggested to get closer with.

The general was stoic, he didn't even show emotions at times. Some of the generals Alfred had brought with him to meetings would growl, others would make small snarky comments about the Soviet representatives, but General Marshall just merely eyed them every now and then which to Alfred was suspicious. He continued his monologue, thinking in his mind. _'He acted like he didn't even hate the Communists. He even complimented them once in a speech. He couldn't possibly..be working with them could he?'_

Some people thought he was being too paranoid, which in their defense, they weren't wrong. But when placed in his shoes, no one blamed him. Rumor has it, he had the *Red Scare. And he was willing to do everything in his power to stop his nightmare from happening.

\------------------------------

_D.C., United States of America_

_November 30th, 1949_

_8:48 AM_

The office was cleaned up very well. There was large American flag pole stationed beside a window that showcased happy citizens trotting around the White House on a sunny day. The desk he was currently sitting down in front of was made by some dark oak he assumed with a small plaque that read 'President H. S. Truman'. Of course, President Truman was also sitting at the desk with Mr. Marshall standing behind him, arms crossed behind his back. They were nice people, well at least to Alfred they were, but something felt off today. 

President Truman had his face standing on one of his hands, very unusual for the president, rounded circled glasses mindlessly slipping off his nose, most likely from the sweat. Marshall was acting more stern these past couple of days. His stance was very militaristic, his chin facing up like when he was out training the newer soldiers. The American had no idea why he was here, but he could make a guess.

The president let out a sigh, and straightened his back starting off with, "Well Alfred you may be wondering why we've called you here." He pushed his glasses into place and looked back at the confused person. "We wanted to talk to you about Russia and *The Marshall Plan."

"What about them?" Alfred responded. Although him and Ivan were having a bit of rough spot at the moment, it wasn't like it was affecting the country.

"Do you remember the deal we stroke with them? That they may keep the eastern countries as long as they followed a democratic pattern with the smaller nations?" Mr. Marshall spoke up.

"Yeah? They said they'd give them fair elections to choose their government right?" The American said. This doesn't look like this is going to go anywhere good.

"They said they were, turns out they never did." Mr. Marshall continued.

"What?" He shot out of his chair and exclaimed. "Mr. President, what is he talking about?"

"There were no elections, were no votes. As soon as the Russians got to them, they're now under the communist regime." A small pause for a moment before resuming, "That means your Lithuanian friend Toris is now one of those communists too."

He stared at the men and a question popped into his mind. "With all due respect sir, I am thankful you're telling me this, but why are you telling me before the meeting? Why not after?"

Slowly getting out of his wooden chair, he turned to grab a cigarette and a lighter. "We're telling you this, because we want you to keep an eye on your Russian comrade." He cupped his hands around the small fire, kindling it towards the end of the cigarette. Taking a puff of it, he gestured at Marshall to finish the rest.

Mr. Marshall nodded towards the President and then looked back at Alfred. "Listen kid, we know you want to help out your family and all, but we need some insurance if the communists really do go trying to colonize the world. And that's what the Marshall Plan is here for. We can rebuild Europe and deflect the Russians at the same time."

Alfred stared down, and left Mr. Marshall quiet. He needed to think this over. "So let me get this straight. You want me to fly over there and swoon all of Western Europe to our side?"

"Strange way of putting it, but yes." The smell of smoke had ventilated the entire room, small rivers from the President were flowing from the thin stick he held between his fingers. After taking a few more puffs, he dropped the cigarette butt into an ashtray on the desk and turned to Alfred, all joy deprived from his face. His mouth smelled awful, after all it stunk of tobacco. "This is no longer war Jones. This is a game of chess, where your board is the world and your pawns are your followers. If you want to win this game and trust me you will, then you can no longer be the child you were before this. You've now entered reality and as soon as the *Recovery plan is launched, it'll only be a matter of time for either one of our countries to fall, do you understand?"

He stumbled, taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere in this room. The two elder gentlemen watched him closely, waiting for his response. 

"Yes sir." Alfred saluted. He won't lose, not when he's gotten this far.

\------------------------------

So that's exactly what he has been doing these last couple of months. He'd visited a couple of Nordics, England, Belgium, Netherlands, and just recently France.

A recess was called, momentarily stopping the annual G8 meeting everyone had gotten together for every couple of months. This time Francis had hosted the meeting, which wasn't too bad if you didn't account for Arthur constantly bickering with him every other minute. Though they could be harsh with each other, they've always been like that. Even if they say mean things at times, there was no real harm behind it and Alfred knew this fact well.

At the moment, Francis was excitedly showing Alfred around the break room which was heavily adorned in decorations. A large crystal chandelier covered the room with shimmering lights, ribbons of the iconic blue, white, red, hanging from every corner. The wall itself was made of white marble and the snack table they were heading towards had an elegant light golden sheet draped on top of it. The entire room was filled with the noise of laughter. There were the G8 of course, but there were also other men, either top generals or close advisors to the country leaders. *Mr. Marshall being one of them, currently conversing with Arthur. Francis himself wasn't looking bad himself either. He had a milk white suit, a black undershirt, and a tie that complimented the suit completely. He had a small navy blue ribbon that tied back most of his outgrown curly hair, although some parts of the front were left out still suffering the terrible haircut he got a long while back. He had started to ramble off on the different variations of sweets the chefs had baked, the small ponytail laying on his back softly bobbing up and down.

"It looks like you're doing really well huh?" Alfred said, a grin happily forming on his face.

"Of course I've been doing well mon ami! It's been rough these couple of years, but everything is looking upwards!" Francis said, raising his thin wine glass towards the American.

"That's great man, I'm glad you're getting better!" He hovered over an organized plate of cannolis and let out a small smirk. If anything, Francis loved getting recognized by his work. Especially in the culinary industry. "If I'm not wrong, these are all your recipes right?"

"Oui, you have a very good eye Alfred! You got that from me, of course. Old caterpillar brows can't tell style, even if it bit him in the ass." He snickered, eyeing the fashionably questionable tie that didn't at all match with his handkerchief.

They continued to move down the table, Francis giving out specific details on the embroidery of the table sheets while Alfred helplessly did his best to follow along. He described his long journey on how he got back into cooking after meeting up with chefs across his country who had also fought in the war. As he was talking about one of his encounters, the American couldn't help but notice that glimmer in the Frenchman's eyes. There was so much passion hidden behind those swirling midnight blue orbs. Something that wasn't there years ago. A part of him felt a relief to see Francis so absorbed in his hobby.

"Oh right!" Francis suddenly exclaimed as they reached the ending of the table. Hurriedly, he grabbed a small covered metal plate from one of the passing chefs and opened it in front of the american. "Tah-dah!" Inside were miniature cheeseburgers with small French flags on toothpicks stuck into the buns."

"Dude! Are those sliders?" Alfred asked, still with an amazed look.

Francis confusedly looked at him. "Ah yes? Hamburgers, the food you're oftenly eating at meetings but smaller?"

"This is so cool bro!" He exclaimed, holding the tiny platter that accompanied the slider in his hand. "But I thought you didn't like making American cuisine though?"

"You're not wrong." he scoffed. "But I do want to thank you for supplying us with weapons and backup, even if your at the time president was against it. I know that making you food that you like won't pay back the debt right now, but I want to show you my gratitude for being there." Sighing, he leaned his back onto the table with a sheepish smile. "And besides, the Red Velvet Cake you baked me back in '32 wasn't too bad."

The grin on his face grew wider, as he pulled the man into a large hug. "I should've figured you were a New Yorker kinda guy!"

"Hey, I just got this suit! If you wrinkle it, who knows how long it'll take to get them out!"

"Hahahah, sorry."

After a few more moments of talking, the duo spotted General Marshall make his way over. "Well my dear friend, I see that you have someone else who'd like to talk to you." Francis grabbed a pair of tongs and a plate, serving himself a couple of macaroons and madeleines. "I'll head over and tell your brother that the pancakes are on the table alright? We'll meet you back at the conference!" He waved a final farewell before heading off to the rest of the group of chattering people.

Mr. Marshall was a very serious man, but also a very respectable one. He seemed content with his place in the congress at the moment, not willing to go any further up the political ladder, even though many people including President Truman had admitted what a great president he could be. But he always was a modest person, a man to think of the country, not himself. He had his uniform on as did most everyone else, but was missing his cap. When Alfred asked why he didn't wear it, he simply stated it would be easier for the young American to find his balding head when he inevitably got in trouble than search for a dark green cap that likely every other old balding general at the meeting would be wearing. Of course Alfred was offended by the comment, mainly because of how accurate it was and the fact that Mr. Marshall was right about every general at the meeting having a hat except him. But although he was known for his tough exterior, he was walking towards Alfred with a rather large smile on his face. He looked more loosen up than before, perhaps Arthur got him too many drinks.

"Jones!" He yelled out, slapping a hand on the young man's back. "That was a good speech you pulled out there in the conference!"

"You really think so Mr. Marsh? I don't think you've ever said something like that before." He laughed back with amusement.

"Don't try and squeeze another compliment out of me, this is a one time only chance. Don't spoil it." He grunted. Turning his wrinkled wrist, he looked at the small watch then turned and motioned Alfred towards him. "We've got around twenty minutes left, walk with me kid."

Hurriedly, the American caught up with the general. "Is there something you want to talk about Mr. Marsh?" He asked quizzically. They were moving away from the breakroom, someone would notice that right?

"Yes Jones. You'll be heading off to West Berlin next month, correct?" He said, his tone of voice starting to change. He searched through his pocket for a thin cigarette and lighter, ignoring the non-smoking signs around the large empty hallway they entered.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"The President wants you to announce it in the meeting as soon as it's resumed."

"What?" Alfred asked. He thought that the general would show some emotion, disgruntled, upset, but he still looked as nonchalant before. "What do you mean announce it, Ivan is here. It's bad enough that we're still attending events given the current nuclear war tension, and if he finds out I'm visiting his part of Germany, then he could try send another one of his spies on me!"

As he ranted, Mr. Marshall took a long breath of the cigarette, waiting for the other to finish. He was getting too old for this. "He already knows."

A quiet silence entered, despite the chatter that echoed from the other room. "He what? How?" He yelled out in disbelief.

"Something was sent to your office a few days ago." He said shuffling through his pocket, and pulling out a small blank card then handed it to him. "We were curious who it was from and took a look."

Alfred quickly grabbed it, rage emitting off of him like dry ice. He flipped it over, his thoughts racing through his mind. _'What did he write?'_ The letter he held read as followed:

'I can't wait to see you next month. -Ivan'

"We figured that we had a soviet mole in the congress. Currently as we speak, everyone is undergoing an investigation." He said, flicking ash off onto the ground and then placing the cigarette back into his mouth.

"Why the hell wasn't I informed about this?" He seethed.

"Shut your trap Alfred!" He whispered, yanking down on Alfred's suit. "I brought you to somewhere secluded for a reason. For god's sake, if you're going to make a scene, make it a quiet one, do you understand me?"

The American stared at the General as they met eye to eye. He took a deep breath, and mumbled out softly, "Yes general."

Letting out a huff, he released his jacket and continued, "The reason we didn't tell you this is because we didn't want you to get paranoid of him." Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but the sharp glare of the general made him think otherwise. "Ever since your trip to England you've been on your toes, I know you have been because you've been questioning everyone around the office, and scaring the newest recruiters. And frankly? It's starting to piss me off." He grumbled, stomping on the cigarette butt.

He turned towards the American and said, "Don't think I haven't been noticing how you've been acting cautious around me. I respect those Russians purely because of their strength. But I do not side with them."

"But I still don't understand why we have to announce to the rest of the meeting participants! What is the use of doing that if he already knows?" Alfred asked, his tone getting louder.

The general sighed once more as he stopped in his tracks. He had the same questions as Alfred did, but it was what President Truman wanted. "The reason we were keeping it a secret was to keep it from ever reaching the Russians' ears. But now that they know, it's useless to hide it anymore. We can't show that we're still on the edge, so we might as well take advantage of this situation to tell everybody before they do it first." He grumbled, looking back at the American who was still standing there, infuriated.

"Once you get your act together, you can join us back in the break room." He glanced momentarily at his watch then stared back at Alfred. "You've got twelve minutes. Take this time to decide what you're going to say and how you're going to say it."

Alfred stood there alone, shaking in anger. Slowly, he walked towards one of the benches and let his back slump forwards as soon as he hit the seat. Leaning his sweating forehead on his hands, he tried his best to take deep breaths. _'He found out. That bastard went out of his way to mock me like this.'_ His intrusive thoughts did nothing to help him, only making him breathe more rapidly. _'He snuck a mole into the country. Into the White House. He sent me a greeting card and made me look like an absolute fool in front of my citizens.'_ Those breaths turned into pants, his mind racing to find the deflector. _'But they pledged they were loyal to the country. To me. They all said it, every single one of them, I'm sure of it. Someone was lying though.'_

_*Thu-thump_

_._

_._

_._

_*Thu-thump_

His breath hitched. Though his head was down, he knew exactly who it was. He could tell by the rhythm of his march, the heavy sound of his thick furred boots hitting the ground. The jingles of his dozens of medals pinned proudly on his right chest made as they clashed together with every proceeding step. And he knew that the person was smiling, the prick always was.

"Privyet *Fedya." a voice whispered. It was quiet but the voice knew that whatever it said would ring through the American's ears for hours. The deafening sound of silence buzzed around them, as if the bright sparkling room they currently were in had turned pitch black, and all they could see were each other.

He heaved out a sigh. It was going to take everything within him to not strangle the man in front of him.

"The hell do you want Braginski?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Red Scare- Kinda exactly what it sounds like. It's name based off the flag of the soviet regime, it was a fear of the rising power of Communism taking over the world and possibly the USA.
> 
> *General Marshall- A very important figure in the US, having large roles in both WW1 and WW2. He was known as a strict person, but a real people's man. I did a lot of research on this dude, trust me.
> 
> *The Marshall Plan- A 4 year plan that took place in 1948 named after General Marshall who introduced the plan in the first place. It cost the USA around 17 billion dollars then, and wiring that through 1948 money, it would now be around 135 billion dollars now. Although it's main focus was on bringing Western Europe back to it's formal glory, it did include the bonus of having some control over all the other Western European countries. This is exactly the reason why Eastern Europe didn't join. If the Americans help, then that means that they'll have control over parts of the USSR. Stalin wasn't to keen on that.
> 
> *The Recovery Plan- The Marshall Plan but the name makes more sense.
> 
> *Fedya- Replacement for Fredka. It's more accurate, and makes sense, given that this is during the 1950s.
> 
> This is the author speaking here! Thank you for reading my first chapter of 'A Game of Chess'. Hoo boy this was really god damn long, the next chapter will be shorter, promise. There will be more coming out soon, do not fret. This actually is my first Fanfic ever, sorry if it was cringey or sumthin. But if you want to read more, add this to your library and you'll be able to get notifications as soon as I publish the second chapter. Much love, stay classy.


	2. Encounter

_Marseilles, France_

_September 30th 1950_

_2:48 PM_

"The hell do you want Braginski?" His voice asked, quivering in malice. _'He really had the audacity to confront me, and knowing him, he probably listened in on the conversation.'_ His head was still facing the floor, a good decision really. He couldn't afford getting into another physical fight with Ivan, though he can only imagine the immense satisfaction he'd get beating the man until he spewed blood. He hated how his heart grew louder, with every proceeding step the Russian took towards him. The fact that he knew why, made him hate it even more.

As Alfred sat there, his right leg bouncing violently out of annoyance, Ivan couldn't help but smile. Unlike the other smiles he wore in front of the others, this was genuine. The sight of the American's world starts to fall apart, how a simple twist of trust caused the man who was by far one of the most powerful nations in the world, crumble beneath his feet. This.. this was the purest form of entertainment he has witnessed so far.

"Fedya, I wanted to check-" He began only to be immediately cut off by a loud clack of a shoe. If he was to be honest, the sound threw him off a bit.

Alfred slowly rose his head, eyes immediately locking in with Ivan's. A burning intensity grew aflame just behind the American's electric blue irises. He had a menacing stare, no Hollywood smile, no jokes or gags, no more laughter. His lips ran as a thin line, although a slight amusement laid in his face. The grin on the Russian's face only thickened. He could tell that he was so close to cracking . The Red Scare had already gotten to him, now it was left up to Ivan to finish it off. And then? Well then he could finally puppeteer the young nation, driving all of his family away until he was all alone. _'Just like me.'_ a sadistic thought commented. _'He'll have no one else but me.'_

"Call me 'Fedya' one more time and I'll wipe that smile off your face, this time for good." he yelled out. "We are nothing more than delegates that go to the same meeting now, how many times do I need to repeat that before you get it through that thick skull of yours?"

Ivan clenched his jaw but stayed silent, for now of course. "I see that you finally received my letter hmm?"

Alfred sighed, all this anger pent up inside him was just going to make him stress more and with the Russian around, it would only add to the problem. Ivan was just trying to push his buttons, make him all antsy and nervous. As if he would ever let that pass. He pushed himself off the bench, stretching a couple of sore muscles.

"Alright let's cut to the chase okay? Why are you here?"

Ivan grinned sadistically, his hands crossed behind his back. His eyes had a dark purple maroonish tint to it that seemed to dull into a deep bloody red when in the light but glowed in the dark. Finally, the climax he was hoping for.

"You want to know why?" He asked, the smile still glued to his face. An uneasy feeling sat at the bottom of the American's stomach when he saw that strange expression of his. His feet stumbled backwards, but Ivan moved much faster than that.

He leaned into a crook of Alfred's neck, his pale peach scarf softly making contact with his skin. Although he could feel the rough fabric of his uniform make contact with his suit, the temperature dropped around his body went cold immediately. Alfred shuddered at his touch. Ivan opened his mouth and whispered into his ear, "It's because I know what you're trying to do."

"Huh?"

Instead of pulling away from him, Ivan pushed him along backwards, slamming him into the wall. "You're not as dumb as you act my dear." he continued. Alfred cringed as he felt the hard cold marble rammed into his back. "I know all about your trip to France darling, even about the large bouquet Francis gave you at the airport." He whispered, one gloved hand securing around the American's throat. "Of course he included yellow roses, astilbes, white tulips, any fancy little flowers except the one you actually like right?" he snarled as the American started to fight against him.

Alfred froze and stared at him. And he stared, back a psychotic grin still gleefully dancing on his face. He could tell at that exact moment, hidden behind that heroic facade, there was something Alfred would never reveal in front of anyone. A look that he would never show. The mask was finally breaking down, he could see behind the cracks was a shred of _fear._

"How- Why do you know?" He stammered. He was starting to slip, just barely though. The pounding in his heart increased, his eyes widened terrifyingly.

"Is that really what you're going to ask? Why do I know?" He darkly chuckled. The grasp he held on his throat tightened, his face illuminated from his eyes. "I said I know everything about your trip. I know what hotel you stayed in, the address of Francis's house, even the name of the waitress who served you when you and him dined at Le Meurice."

For once in a long time, Alfred was speechless. He softly muttered, "You're fucking crazy." His heart pounded through his veins loudly, loud enough he could swear the whole building could hear it's thumping. Ivan looked directly into his eyes, his large military cap overshadowing his small white bangs.

"Am I?" He giggled. His hand reached out to Alfred's hair, gently caressing with a thoughtful look. "You don't have to pretend around me you know. I already know what your plan is, you can just tell me the truth."

"What 'truth' are you talking about?"

"If only you told me *дорогой.. I've seen you spending so much time with Western Europe, trying to impress them with your little jokes and tricks." He whispered, slowly twirling a golden lock with his finger. " _Even flirting with Francis, just to get me to notice you."_

Alfred stared back in shock and disgust, his mouth barely agape. The gears in his head were twisting, trying to fully grasp what he said and how calmly he said it. He carried a childish composure, as if to compensate for the sentence that just came out of his mouth. He was right about his theory on Alfred cracking, it was his last straw. 

His fist was shaking, body was trembling. In his defense, his mind went completely blank.

"I had no clue you were so desperate to get back-"

_*Thud!_

.

.

.

Ivan stumbled back a bit, not completely falling but it was a pretty close call. It really was a hard blow, harder than he thought it'd be. His hat fell off his head as he clutched his stomach in pain. He hadn't been kneed like that in a long time, it actually felt a bit refreshing. He had perhaps thought that he'd gone too far, he still needed to leash him in. But when he looked back at Alfred? It was definitely worth the punch. The look on his face carried a ruthlessness he's never seen before. He knew, he knew that they could be similar. No matter what, power was always ranked No. 1 in a growing country like him. It was only a matter of time he'd start colonizing, he'll realize how much fun it is. The rush of adrenaline he will get when he'd storm their cities, chasing them down alleyways until they collapse, they'll finally see eye to eye! 

Alfred stared down at him. "Don't you dare hint at my relationships with my friends in that way again." He yelled out. "I don't regret leaving a pathetic excuse of a person like you and never will." He held this angered, almost revolted look in his face. Has Ivan finally gone mad?

"Finally, there it is." Ivan mumbled quietly. He reached out for his cap, while still massaging his bruising gut.

"Excuse me?" Alfred asked. He could really go for a second punch, maybe that will shut him up.

"I said finally." He calmly dusted his hat, then placed it back onto its original station. "You may not have known, but I could tell from your eyes, you would make a wonderful leader. The tyranny in your eyes, I could sense it from a mile away my dear." He smiled at him, lending out a hand

Alfred gave him a hard glare, looking at the hand, then back at his twisted face. This wasn't as important as he thought it'd be. He sighed and looked at his watch and he really needed to get to that meeting, or else he'd be late and would probably won't hear the end of it from General Marshall. "Listen Ivan, I'm not going over this again. I don't-"

But he interrupted him, grabbing his hands and holding it tightly to his chest. "No! Don't you see? You and I could rule this planet! Every single country would fall to the mercy of us, together we're stronger than all of them combined!" He cried out, spitting out his delusional desires. "If you just tried it, we could be great together! They're all weak right now, and they would just crumble into our empire like dirt."

Alfred just looked back at Ivan with a tint of disappointment, he felt kind of let down. Before, he wasn't so deranged, so desperate for power. He was still dangerous and bold, but that's what drew him into the relationship in the first place. Then he changed. He started to see him as less of an equal, and more like something he had to contain. He was constantly trying to control him and in the end that's what drove him off. Alfred would never admit this, but it was scary. Even now, the unstable look in his eyes was terrifying.

"My answer won't waver Ivan. I'm nothing like you, face it. We couldn't have been happy together." Alfred sighed. He tore his wrists away from the towering man, smoothing out any potential wrinkles on his cuffs. "I'll see you back in the meeting Mr. Braginski. Let's not meet again, okay?" He said in a farewell manner. 

"We may meet sooner than you expect, Alfred" Ivan whispered, loud enough for the shaken American to hear. But the ominous warning didn't stop him, nor did it faze him. The clacks of his shoes disappeared down the hallway, leaving Ivan standing somewhat stranded in the lobby.

He watched Alfred's shadow walk off, and turn around the corridor. Things were moving in the directions he planned it to. He should feel more accomplished, he did it right? But his hand moved towards his chest, somehow cradling it.

There was still this empty feeling he carried in his heart. It was hollow, yearning for something to fill it. The more he thought about it, the harder he could feel his heart beat against his ribs. It felt like it was going to break through his body and fall onto the ground. It felt so heavy yet it wanted more, it begged for something to fulfill it.

He started to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself. A therapist he had secretly been consoling had told him to do this whenever he thought of Alfred. But it doesn't help. Alfred was always on his mind, how could he constantly be using this method on a problem that's always there and never-ending? It seems that the therapist may not be of any use to him if this is the case.

Admittedly, the advice he was given wasn't the best. But he couldn't resist to see the look of panic the man had when he asked for a solution. To see the man ultimately try and fail to please Ivan and to keep his life, it was simply divine. _'What a shame.'_ He'll just have to replace the therapist again, there were plenty of them. No one would blink if that one just vanished. And if they did, they may just vanish too.

That genocidal whisper sent a rush of euphoria through his mind. The thought of how much power he held over his people, that was the true answer to his problem. _'Beat an addiction with a stronger addiction. Heh. Who even needs therapists when you can seek your own medication?'_

It didn't take long for the small childish smile to reappear onto his face. There were other things he could be focusing on right now, like prepping plans. However instead of also walking towards the meeting, he moved down the opposite direction to a door labeled 'Staff Room' He didn't need to go back for the rest of the conference, nor did he want to. Seeing Fedya acting so happy around the others really bugged him, he could pop every single head in there off their torso with a single flick if he wanted to. Besides, he already had the information he needed, a nice trip back into the cold Russian weather was something he needed to cool off for a bit.

Alfred seemed less panicked than one would have thought he would, especially after that unlucky encounter. It all just felt a bit surreal. By the time he reached the lounge, it was completely emptied out. He was definitely late now. He rushed towards a pair of large wooden doors, quickly swinging it open and walked in.

Luckily, everyone hadn't yet settled down, in fact mostly all of them weren't even in their seats. They were still talking with each other, too busy with themselves to bother looking at who entered the door. Unfortunately for him though, General Marshall wasn't those types of people. _'I guess Arthur didn't give him as much alcohol as I thought he did._ The general sat there in his seat maintaining strong eye contact Alfred, a sense of doom impending around him. _'I'm screwed.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *дорогой- Darling
> 
> Alright, that concludes Chapter 2. Admittedly, this was much shorter than I'd like it to be but that's because I really had to break this part off. The next chapter might be as long as this because I was originally going to incorporate the both together but then it got too much and they had different events happening so I just thought, what the hell. I'll see you in a week maybe, stay classy and much love.


	3. Backlash

_Marseilles, France_

_September 30th 1950_

_3:00 PM_

He made his way toward the front of the long table, greeting a couple of others on the way towards his imminent death. Mr. Marshall wasn't the type to overlook mistakes, Alfred knew that well. 

However before he made it to Mr. Marshall, it seemed that one of the other generals who were too fixated on their conversation, accidentally elbowed him into someone sitting in their seats.

_*THUD_

.

.

.

It would be an understatement to say he fell hard on the other person, but it wasn't like he meant to although with the amount of force he landed with it may have seemed like that. He hit the ground, hard and his glasses knocked off his face. 

When he opened his eyes, the world was blurry, he could barely focus on the ground beneath him. An aching started to spread from his back, he probably got knocked into the table as well. He tried to look around, all he could recognize were large dark frozen blobs which he assumed were the people that knocked him over. They didn't seem to make any move, as if time stopped. The atmosphere that he seemingly created was uncomfortable. 

After a few seconds he really didn't hear anything. Just a silence. His landing was pretty loud, but he didn't expect to leave a whole crowd speechless.

"Agh damn.." he muttered, cheeks flushed a deep red. He was probably going to get scolded for being too clumsy by Mr. Marshall on top of him also being late.

Waving his hands around the floor, he tried to detect where exactly it was. If no one was going to help him up, he might as well do it himself. But he really did need to find those glasses, Texas was still pretty important to him. The frustration in him had started to pipe. Maybe because he had just been encountered by Ivan. Maybe because currently no one was helping him with his glasses and making him find it himself. Or maybe it was both.

He started to look like a madman crawling on the floor, his dress shirt untucking from his pants. And that his hair was starting to become more disheveled.

 _'How the hell did my glasses get this far away from me?'_ He thought.

Frantically, he continued searching for them until he finally felt a hand reach down to his shoulder, lending him his glasses in arm's reach. A rush of relief ran through him, blocking out the apparent gasps that generated he didn't hear.

Slowly, he let out his HollyWood smile and grabbed for the glasses. "You know dude, you really got to look out for where people are going!" He chuckled. His hands fumbled for the small sleek glasses, carefully putting them back onto his nose. If only he could see the look of horror that was on every other persons' face right now.

There, standing in front of him was a slightly, very upset German who was obviously not the person who shoved him. He gave a less friendly aura, something that made Alfred forget about General Marshall for a quick minute. His eye was a dark stormy grey-bluish color, golden blonde hair slicked back. A rather large noticeable scar ran down from his right side of his face, the eye being covered with a thick black eyepatch. His eyebrows were furrowed, holding back an immense rage.

After a moment of him taking a deep breath in, he let out a sigh, and gritted out through his teeth, "I apologize for the inconvenience I've caused you."

Before the American could process what had just happened, the German sat back at his chair as if everything was back to normal. Alfred stared at Ludwig for a moment, then back at the group who had accidentally pushed him, particularly a ghost-white plump Italian general whose skin was usually a tanned brown.

He stared at the general in disbelief, waiting for a sorry but the general looked like he was about to faint. He sighed in exhaustion as he turned back to the German, he could deal with that guy later, right now he had to clear things up with Ludwig. 

Reaching out a hand towards him, he said "Wait Ludwig, I meant-"

"Alright! Let's finish this meeting! I know it must be exhausting having to travel from place to place but thankfully, this meeting will be the last one for this month and for next month!" Francis suddenly yelled, a glass of wine still in his hand. He laughed along with the other guests, visibly trying to steer the attention back onto the conference.

Francis continued to laugh, though it was evident it was more of an uncomfortable chuckle. He moved upwards along the table, to Alfred and grabbed his hand, softly tugging him towards his seat. He hesitated to follow, but there really was no other way he could say sorry to Ludwig without making the situation more awkward. Reluctantly, he sighed and let Francis lead him to his chair and General Marshall who was angrily tapping his foot against the ground.

"I explicitly told you, you had exactly twelve minutes before the meeting. Why did it take you fourteen?" Mr. Marshall asked, a rough exterior prickling around his tone.

"I'm sorry Sir, I just seemed to have lost track of time while I was thinking about what I was going to say next." He responded. Quite tiredly, he rubbed his face in hopes to relax a bit. In under fifteen minutes, his day somehow went from great, to terrible, to disastrous.

The general glared at the American. He opened his mouth to angrily scold him more on his manners to the German who was going to be his roommate for the next month, before noticing the exhaustion and the energy that was drained from his face. As much of a hard head he was, Alfred was still just a kid despite his age.

"That must be one hell of a speech then." He muttered, trying to sound a bit nicer.

"Yes Sir." Alfred responded, visibly unmoved by the General's attempt at a joke.

He looked at the young man besides him, slightly unsatisfied with the reply. Comforting wasn't exactly his forte, and admittedly, he could be rather harsh at times and not notice the effect it had on a growing kid like him. Discreetly, the general slid a small item towards him, not making any form of eye contact with him when he finally noticed. When he lifted his hand, a small dum-dum laid there, much to the American's surprise.

"Eat it after the meeting." The General said bluntly, looking the other direction.

A small grin appeared on Alfred's face as he placed the piece of candy in his pocket, mumbling a soft "Thank you Sir."

Sounds of chairs screeching against the wooden planked floor filled the room as Francis began to talk.

"Alright gentlemen, where did we leave off? If I remember correctly, Ivan should be up next right?"

The name perked Alfred's ears, his head immediately shot up. It was surprising that he didn't notice this at first but Ivan wasn't in the meeting room. He didn't even hear Ivan walking behind him now that he thought about it. As the sirens went off in his head, a meek waiter slunk into a room.

Alfred stared at the waiter. He didn't mean to offend, but he looked a bit shaken up. Well not shaken up per say, more like petrified. His body was practically shivering, eyes darting across the room hurriedly before spotting the Eastern European section Alfred watched him make his way, whispering something into an old Russian geezer's ear. When the server pulled away from him, the color from the general's face quickly drained.

"Ivan? Is Ivan here?" Francis asked. He looked around the room, encouraging others to do so as well. After a brief moment of confusion, the color-drained general stood up and cleared his throat. He almost looked as scared as the waiter now.

"We're sorry to inform everyone that Ivan had other things to tend to back in the Soviet Union. We are all required to accompany him back on his trip. Thank you Mr. Bonnefoy for inviting us to your meeting, we hope you join us in the next G8 summit, held at Leningrad." He said, other Eastern European members murmuring their thank you's and such.

Alfred stared at them, a sense of guilt and sympathy swaying inside his chest. His eyes lingered on Toris. Toris looked so tired, his stance was drooping and he seemed the most frightened when he heard the Russian's name mentioned. They connected eye contact for a second, before Toris quickly looked away. Alfred frowned slightly, a disheartening feeling whittling away at his already diminishing soul. They haven't talked much since the fight between Ivan.

_'I wonder if he hates me now..'_

They shuffled out of the room, leaving Francis to call on the next speaker. As the meeting droned on, Alfred couldn't focus on the sheets of papers the other countries were talking about. The words coming out of their mouths seemed incomprehensible, all he could think about was what Ivan knew.

He knew so many things about him, it was getting to a point where it was creepy. But then again, Ivan crossed the creepy-obsessive line a long time ago. He knew his favorite food, songs, flowers, even the type of suits he preferred to wear. How he found out, he could only guess it to be moles. In fact one time, he received a vinyl album of Benny Goodman with a notecard from the prick at his office. That was the day he started to bring his more important files back to his apartment.

The conference went on, until the sun seemed like it was starting to inch its way downwards. People were back to laughing, small jokes were sprinkled in every now and again. Really, Alfred admired how Francis could steer a group's attitude. He had to give it to him, Francis really is a poetic guy and knew how to talk or raise spirits. But he really couldn't raise spirits after what Alfred was about to tell them. The ending of the conference was nearing, unfortunately. He wished he didn't have to tell them all about his next trip.

"Thank you Matthias for sharing!" A small round of claps went around the room, Alfred clapped nervously alongside them. Who knows, maybe their reactions weren't going to be too horrible when he told them who he was visiting next.

Alfred looked back at Ludwig, he definitely wasn't going to be happy for the news to be announced, but it wasn't like he was going to confront him about it. The German was seated far back on the table, much farther than needed. However it really wasn't all that surprising. Relationships between Ludwig and the others including the ex-axis members hadn't yet rebuilt itself. Especially with Arthur and Francis. They hated him with a passion, and it showed. They refused to talk with him, and nearly blew up when Alfred said he was going to add West Germany to the Marshall Plan. Even though he could understand from their point, they had a fair reason to hate Ludwig, it really bothered him on how willing and fast they were to knock the German off the list. He shuddered at the amount of hatred that came from them. They called Ludwig every single insult they could think of and wholeheartedly meant every single one of them.

"Sorry gentlemen, but the conference isn't over yet. Alfred still has an urgent announcement to make, and then we can all head to our flights!" Francis said brightly.

Alfred smiled back, uneasy of the cheerful beginning he was given as if what he was going to say was good news.

"Right! Yes well as some of you in this room may know, I've been visiting some of your countries, laying out funds for the Marshall Plan, getting to know you guys a bit more, just generally trying to get Europe up and running again. Usually I keep my visits a bit private, and between me and the country I'll be going to and some close family. Very tight-knit kinda thing." He said. A couple of hums in agreement went around the room, some nods and friendly smiles.

Ludwig seemed to know exactly where this was leading. He really had a good judgement, a keen eye. Placing his hands squarely onto the table, he leaned onto it, sweat forming on his face and dead-focused on him, a bit too much for Alfred's comfort. "But this time, I'll be publicly revealing the country I'm visiting next!"

For a brief moment he locked gazes with Ludwig and as he thought, Ludwig was shocked with one wide-eye stare. He nervously looked away, trying his best to maintain that heroic smile. Everyone else in the room seemed excited to know, especially his personal family. This just made it all the harder to say.

"Next month, I'll be heading off to West Berlin!" He announced.

.

.

.

It was quiet. Really damn quiet. No one clapped, cheered, they just gaped at him. Some of them were just genuinely surprised. Others were starting to show tints of disgust in their face. A majority of them were glaring at Ludwig. Poor guy was melting in the spotlight. And Alfred didn't even want to look at Francis's or Arthur's faces, they'd probably start to cuss him out. He wasn't ready for the backlash he'll get for looking at them in the eyes.

Gathering his strength, he took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. "Alright! Are there any questions?" He yelled, trying his best to collect the attention back onto him.

After some silence, a measly hand rose up. Alfred quickly turned his head for it, a feeling of relief relaxing his mind when he saw it was his nearly identical twin who rose it. He could always count on his brother for help.

"Yes, Canada?" he asked, sending a grateful smile towards him.

"How long will you be residing in Germany?" He smiled back at him. Though he had contributed to the war, everyone was more focused onto Alfred then him still. They'd try exchanging spots this one time, and they threw in the towel nearly ten minutes in.

"Just over a month, we'll be able to make it to the next G8 summit from there. Are there any more questions?"

"Yes!" A gruff voice shouted.

He turned towards a tall Belgian general. "Ah, Yes sir?"

"Don't you think a month is over excessive?" he said unsurely. Others seemed to have agreed with the general, wondering the same question "What exactly would you be doing spending your time there?"

"I haven't been able to get the opportunity to contact Mr. Germany since we organized the plan. I think this would be the best chance we could place into fruition for us to lay all the plans out."

The general seemed satisfied enough with the answer, but shot a dirty glance to Ludwig before sitting back down.

No one else raised their hand, although most of them did seem as if they were still curious about the next visit but too embarrassed to ask. Francis clasped his hand harshly onto Alfred's shoulder. "Thank you Representative Alfred!" He yelled out "We're discussing this later, understand?" he whispered under his breath.

Alfred gulped, sweat forming on his neck as he slowly rested back into his chair.

"That'll be the end of the G8 summit, we thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to visit us! Please enjoy the rest of your time here."

A round of applause went around, though it was very apparent how little enthusiasm was put into it. The group of people started to make their way out, along with Francis and Alfred whom he still had a firm hand on. Murmurs were spread inside the little crowd, people were definitely talking about Alfred's next visit. A couple glanced back at him, quickly looking away whenever it seemed like the American noticed them.

_'You're being watched by the world.'_

"Alfred F. Jones!"

Snapped out of a trance, he looked up, kinda startled by the loud voice. Marching towards him, was a raging Arthur, still with his distasteful handkerchief.

"What the hell do you mean you're visiting Germany? Why the hell haven't I been informed of this?" He yelled, shoving a finger into his tie. If Alfred wasn't so afraid of him at the moment, he could've swore he looked like those cartoon trains that had steam puffing out of them.

"Wait, I'll explain-" He stammered, trying to remove grubby hands Arthur off his dress shirt. He'd hope that his French friend would help calm him down, but Francis seemed to have also taken this opportunity to complain to Alfred.

"That's right! Mon Amour, I thought we were close family?" He said, disappointment tinged onto his face.

"No! You are! It's just that-"

"Is that Red Scare thing getting to you so badly that you won't even tell us where you're heading anymore?" Arthur cried out

"What? I'm-"

"Guys." A quiet voice said.

The trio looked at the voice, and yet again to Alfred's relief, he saw Matthew impatiently holding a small platter of crepes.

"You're gathering a crowd, let's take it to my room okay?" The Canadian looked tired, shoving the delicate treat into his mouth.

They looked over to a panicked crowd staring at them, watching the drama unfold itself. Arthur unhanded the American immediately, letting him stumble back until he caught himself.

"Alright let's go." Said Matthew, taking out a small key in his pocket. He glared at Alfred, feeling the same energy of doom he felt from General Marshall. "You're walking in front, you have a lot to explain."

That relieved smile on the American's face quickly disappeared, as he was stared down by his brother. A reluctant smile appeared on his face, a shiver rushing down his back.

_'This family is scary.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Chapter 3! I couldn't wait to post this chapter, and honestly it get's more notice if there's more chapters so.. I wonder if any of you are asking what the big fight was between Alfred and Ivan, since it is the reason why they're broken up in the first place. I'll give a little conformation as a treat to the people who actually read the author's note. If you like this, then please add to your library or a little star. Stay classy, and much love.


	4. Promises

_Marseilles, France_

_September 30th 1950_

_6:08 PM_

_*Click_

Matthew softly locked the door. They were going to be in this room for a while.

Alfred sheepishly pulled out a chair to get ready for the oncoming storm, he still didn't want to look the European duo in the eye. Never did he want to get on their bad side, he didn't want to become the next Ludwig either. He sat down, trying to look as lax as possible. The room smelled like sweet lavenders, it was actually a bit calming. For a moment, he and Matthew looked at each other. A small pleading grin cracked onto his face as the Canadian placed the keys back into his coat pocket. Matthew stared back with a serious expression on his face, shook his head, and slinked off into the kitchen.

Alfred heaved a sigh. Matthew never was a fan of taking a main role in political conversations. He didn't like getting his reputation of 'The Quiet One' tarnished. Alfred looked at him, trying to gain his attention as Matthew grabbed a small kettle and began filling it up at a sink. It was clear, he wasn't going to help him this time.

He inwardly groaned, and turned his head to the two men standing in front of him in defeat.

"So what exactly did you guys want to talk about?"

Arthur was the first to go off, he could never really control his temper. He shot up from his position, taking large steps towards the American with a finger still pointing at him. His face was already as red as a strawberry from him fuming silently in the corner.

"Why are you going to Germany's? Why didn't we know?" He asked in an accusatory tone.

Alfred rolled his eyes, only fueling Arthur's rage. "I'm going because I need to, you guys aren't the only countries in ruins."

"You still haven't answered one of my questions."  
  
"Alright fine, listen." He said, putting a palm in front of Arthur before he could interrupt him. Matthew placed down the kettle, waiting along with others in anticipation.

"The reason I didn't tell you guys sooner is because I knew you two would act like this." He said tiredly. There's no use in trying to sugarcoat it. "There isn't anything I can do about it, the President needed me to get in contact with Ludwig so we planned a visit next month."

"But he's a half-witted *bonehead!" Arthur yelled. They flinched at the term, it was still too early to be able to throw around that word in conversations. "He shouldn't even be at these meetings, but you were the one who insisted on allowing him to come!"

Alfred winced at that. It was true, but Ludwig has been getting better over the years. But he didn't realize how angry that would've made them.

"But he's still in Europe, just like you!" He argued back.

The Englishman stumbled backwards, deeply offended to be placed in the same category with that country. "Why I never-"

"Mon cheri?" France quipped up, calmly stopping Arthur from bursting into hysterics. "Allow me to handle this situation for a moment." Arthur's cheeks flushed at the nickname. He coughed into his hand slightly embarrassed while Matthew hurriedly brought him a cup of tea which he gratefully thanked him for. Francis nodded at the two then bent down getting on one knee. He placed his hand onto Alfred's shoulder, looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

"Alfred. You're a good person, I know this because I raised you-"

"Technically, I did." Arthur corrected, taking a sip of his tea.

Francis glared at him. "And he went into revolution where you were defeated and he won with my help."  
  
"Ack!" Arthur coughed, spitting out a partial bit of his tea. Alfred snickered as the Englishman wiped the liquid dripping down his chin. "He just went into a rebellious phase, t-that's all!"

Francis ignored him and turned back to the young man. "But Amerique, you can't be nice to everyone. Have you seen what he's done to Feliks? The poor boy had personality disorder when we found him."

Alfred looked down. He knew they were right, the Polish man was still recovering to this day and couldn't even bear being in the same room as Ludwig or Ivan without constantly looking over his shoulder or breaking out into a nervous sweat for a long time. Now, he seems as energetic as he was before the war although it was a miracle that he's recovered this much.

"That's right!" Arthur said. "He was a murderer, a complete psychopath! If he hadn't started this war, then we wouldn't be in this position."

As annoying it was for him to get a word in every other sentence, Francis couldn't help but agree with him.

Matthew stared at them, holding a tea cup of his own and standing next to Arthur. Although he was only a few feet away from them it felt like he was disconnected from the conversation, and only watching from afar. He didn't have any say in what was going on with Europe at the moment and to be honest, he didn't really care.

But Alfred did. It was funny really; Forty years ago, he barely sent any of his artillery off to Arthur in fear of getting too involved. But now? Now he was sending millions of dollars to nearly every single country in Europe. He was even on the brink of a nuclear war with someone, the irony on his ideals was purely hilarious. However, that didn't really change him. Stirring himself a cup of tea, he watched the American going through mixed feelings about the trip. _'No matter what he gets himself in, he always tries to do the right thing.'_

Alfred hung his head, almost as if in shame. "But he's changed.." He said softly. There wasn't any point in arguing against them, it was hard to change their opinions on something as trivial as Ludwig. But he didn't want to lie to them about his beliefs even if it made them upset..

That however didn't sit right with Arthur. He slammed down his teacup, a small part of the bottom chipping off the table. "Who told you he's changed?"

"No one but-"

"Are you seriously trying to defend him?" He yelled. He walked over to the slumping American and grabbed his shirt, pulling him up from the chair. "Do you know what I've been through because of him?" He screamed. Alfred stood, staring at him with shock. Arthur was enraged, yanking the young man closer, as if he was deaf. "London was getting a visit from his little bomb squad every week! Just ask Francis, he can tell you how terrible of a man that guy is!"  
  
"Oui, that's correct Alfred!" The French man exclaimed. "We've been to hell and back, trying to keep him from entering our countries, and now you're trying to invite him back in? What if he's trying to corrupt your mind?

"Yeah?"

"Even Feliciano started to work with the MI6 once he realized how delusional Ludwig was." Arthur yelled.  
  
Alfred looked up at him, thoughts crossing his mind. _'That's right.. Feliciano was leaking Axis invasions to us when he was still with Germany.'_ Still with Germany? Weren't they together before Ludwig found out he was..

.

.

.

_'Wait a minute.. Wasn't he our main spy?'_

"Oh mon dieu, that poor boy, having to act along with that lunatic just so he could help us save our skins!"

"Admittedly, it was quite noble of him." Arthur praised.

"He was practically in tears when we got hold of him!" Francis said to Alfred. He looked off to the side, and finally whispered. "I haven't seen him cry so hard since Holy.." He clenched his jaw, a heartbroken feeling immediately sweeping over the room.

Arthur slowly wrapped his arms around Francis, consoling him quietly.

"Can't you see what he's done?" Arthur asked Alfred softly.

"But surely he has been given time to change?" He persisted, trying to make his point in the argument. No one dared to look him in the eye, not even Matthew. He sighed, pinching his nose bridge.

"Have you ever just.. thought about him?" He asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Have you ever thought about him? What he's been through?"

They didn't answer, they just stared at him in confusion. At least he's got their attention again.

"Look, the war only started because he was desperate. His people could barely buy three loaves of bread even with a barrel of German marks at the time. The Treaty of Versailles left him completely bankrupt, you expected him to pay you all back when you took the land that could make the most money?"

They were still silent, but their mouths were gaped in shock.

"I'm not defending him. What he did was terrible and completely unforgivable. The reason I'm here however is to make sure that something that terrible or unforgivable doesn't happen again. Europe really needs to start getting their act together, including you two. The Marshall Plan will only work as long as I have everyone cooperating, okay?" He asked hopefully.

He wasn't one to think before and then act. More like a 'Say now, regret later' kind of guy. Sometimes it made him look cool, others made him look cold or blunt. He only ever got like that when he was tired, something his family ignored. They weren't expecting to hear the words coming out of his mouth, since usually he said the things that made others happy. But he was serious. His face held no joy in it, he just seemed like he had given up.

"Is that anyway you speak to the person who helped you get to where you are right now?" Arthur yelled. "How could you complain about that wretched man's sentence?"

"Because this stupid grudge your holding against him is really throwing a wrench in my gears!" He screamed. They just never listened to what he thought. "You've already drained everything out of him, how much hatred could you hold for one single man?" They have to realize that Alfred had other people to help. Them barging in and nitpicking at his plans wasn't helping with the load either. The thought of it just made him even more irritated, why couldn't they just leave him alone every now and again?

He glared at them, anger still flooding his mind. It wasn't fair! Even if they were family, that doesn't mean that he had to do everything to comply to their standards right?

"Things are getting hard already as is. I already have to deal with Ivan and the Recovery Plan's funds. The money is coming out of my pockets at the moment, and until you make a donation to it, you do not get any permission to dictate how I spend it or who I spend it on!"

This was a surprising turn of events. They could almost see behind his eyes, that tint of melancholy. He realized his mistake too late unfortunately. He could see, they almost looked scared. Except for Matthew though. He actually seemed smug.

"I'm confident that Ludwig has changed from what he was five years ago." He sighed, trying to bring out his nicer persona. "If you would just give him a chance-"

_*Thump!_

.

.

.

A loud noise came from the door, it sounded as if something heavy crashed onto it. Everyone stared at the door, the room immediately turning dead quiet. The tension that was there before melted.

"Nghh.." A low voice groaned. Some guy sounded hurt, how hard did he slam into that door?

"Are you alright there lad?" Arthur spoke up cautiously. He wasn't very good at comforting people, usually all he could do was bicker. But it did help how his refined British accent seemed to do the comforting job all by itself.

However, it didn't earn a response from the man, but they could still hear him getting up. "Hah.. Hah.." A second thud landed onto the door, a struggling voice grunted as the man tried to get up.

They all looked nervously at each other, they didn't know what to do. Maybe it was an old man who fell down while walking to his room?

Whoever it was, it was clear that they weren't going to talk. Alfred's stomach churned, at that. They were arguing really loudly. What if the man heard what they were saying?

_Or what if the man heard the entire conversation?_

Alfred cursed in his mind, it's not like what any of them said was government secret information. But if that man had purposefully followed them to spy on them, then there would only be one person he could trace that spy back to. And if he has proof of foul play, especially in situations like these, he could finally confront him.

_'I would catch Ivan red-handed.'_

The thought of trapping him with evidence of a spy sent a sense of coursing euphoria through him. He easily jumped to conclusions oftenly, but he was actually given a good enough reason this time. He slowly made his way to the door, eyeing it like prey. He could hear the man start to silently panic, trying his best to pull himself up faster. This only heightened his suspicion.

The adrenaline he had built up within him seemed to burst as the mysterious man's shadow left from the floor. His eyes widened, expecting the worst of what he could see on the other side of that door. Violently, he swung it open, immediately spotting a blonde man limping down the hotel hallway.

"Hey!" he yelled, beginning to follow the stranger. His pace began to shift, he was unsure if he should sprint or just wait for the man to fall down. As they turned the corner, Alfred noticed something about the man. _'That guy had slicked back blonde hair.'_ Determination flared up in his soul, he was about to chase him down before someone yelled for him.

"Alfred-o?" a cheery voice asked.

Alfred stopped abruptly and watched the blonde man stumble away. Furrowing his brows, he let out a disappointed _tch_ , easing his tense muscles the best he could. Although hearing that voice usually placed him in a better mood, maybe because the person of that voice was always happy and smiling, very different to Ivan's version of happy and smiling. The sounds of the man limping further away echoed down the hall, it would be weird to continue chasing him, he probably already made it to the stairwell. He sighed and turned around to greet a small smiling Italian man standing at the other side of the hall. The young man was dressed in a very fitting green pastel striped suit along with a matching boater hat, topped on his light auburn hair. He wore a grin so wide, his eyes usually seemed closed. Feliciano was always so content with life, Alfred almost envied him.   
  
"Oh hey Feli!" Alfred yelled, trying to seem joyful. He was a bit disgruntled about his plans being thwarted, but there'd definitely be plenty of more opportunities in the future, hopefully.

"Ve~ Were you-a doing something just-a now? It seemed like you were-a in a hurry?" Feliciano asked worriedly.

"Ah.. no, no I'm not." Alfred said, shaking his hand. Like before, plenty of more opportunities. The Italian smiled brightly at that and walked cheerfully towards him.

"Oh alright! I wanted to speak to you-a privately, will that-a be fine?

Alfred looked at Matthew's door, still containing Francis and Arthur who continued glaring at him. He shuddered at the looks as he whipped his head back to Feliciano.

"Yeah, I've got time." He said hurriedly, leading the Italian down the opposite hall towards the elevators as quick as possible. He could easily deal with his family later.

"So what's up?"

"I want to ask you a small favor." Feliciano said shyly, strange for his character. Alfred nodded along with him but a part of him couldn't help but be curious on what exactly was going on at the moment. Since when did Feli start to speak so quietly?

After looking around the common area nervously, he pulled a large paper bag from behind his bag, handing it to Alfred. The American looked down at the bag, taking it awkwardly.

"Why are you giving me something? My birthday was months ago?" He chuckled, trying to get the other to laugh along with him. He never realized how strange it was to see the Italian acting so flustered.

"Uh.. Well you see," he whispered, rubbing his palms together. His ears were tinged a bright pink, so was his face. "These are actually for L-Ludwig."

"What?" Alfred asked. His face fell, staring shocked at the small Italian.

He flinched at the tone, moving his hand to rub against his neck. "I haven't spoken to him in a year, even though I see him every month just sitting there, alone." He said, voice still soft. "I just.. I really miss him."

He was unsure of what to respond, his expression looked like a sputtering fish. "F-Feli.. You know I can't-"

"Yes. I-a understand, but-a please," He begged desperately.

As he looked at the anxious man, a majority of him admitted he didn't really expect Feliciano to ask him this. The entire demeanor of the room had completely collapsed, it all just felt sickeningly depressing. There was a stunning silence between them, Feliciano trying his best to look anywhere but at Alfred, perhaps in a bit of shame.

"I know you may-a not still-a trust him," He started. "but-a I know him-a well."

He finally looked up at the American, a fist clenching his shirt. For the first time in a while, Alfred saw those vivid caramel irises again. Back in the war, they were bright and filled with determination. But now, it felt so empty and dull to look at him directly.

"He isn't evil, he's-a really nice-a guy!"

Alfred really did pity him. Life has been so hard on him. And seeing him now, that happiness on his face has been cleared off.

"I'm-a not allowed anywhere near-a him, you-a know this." Feliciano stated. "But I-a really love him, despite everything I did."

As he spoke, beads of tears rolled down his face. Alfred panicked. _'Shit, shit, shit, this is bad. What do I do when people are sad?'_

"H-Hey, don't cry!" he stammered, quickly pulling out his handkerchief from a suit pocket. Feliciano took it gratefully, wiping his tears.

"He-a may not forgive me for leaving the Axis, but-a I want him to know I still-a love him, and- and that I-a miss him everyday!" He exclaimed, it getting harder for him to muster out complete sentences. He grabbed onto Alfred, hugging him as he cried out incoherent noises. The American held tightly onto Feliciano, patting him gently on the back with one hand.

"Just-a help me this once, please?" He finally choked out.

"Alright buddy, I'll get it to him." He said exasperated, a small grin tucked neatly on his face.

"Really?" He whispered.

"Scout's honor" Alfred chuckled out.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

After a minute, Feliciano unclinged himself from the American, thanked him once more, and watched him head off down the corridor before skipping to his room, content. Alfred pushed his door open, slamming it shut and let out a low whistle. Gently, he placed the bag on the ground and shuffled off his suit jacket and threw it onto the coat rack, only depending on pure luck for it to land. Running a hand through his hair, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar and took a deep breath.

Today was an adventure, an exhausting one. But before he could rest, he needed to pack his suitcase for Berlin. Mr. Marshall was very adamant about him being organized, he was always barking out orders. But that didn't really bother Alfred, well not right now that is.

He crossed the room to the kitchen, where he placed his suitcase, stuffed behind a cupboard. He could never be too careful. As he took out his suitcase, he also pulled out the small sweet that the general had given him. Without looking at the flavor, he popped it in his mouth, delighted with the taste of chemically produced cherry. A loud ringing erupted from a telephone prompting him to rub his nose bridge tiredly. Taking a breath, he placed the suitcase on his bed in a hurry as he pulled the phone to his ear.

"Hello, this is Alfred?"

 ** _"Hey Alfred."_** A soft voice whispered.

He let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his brother's call. "Hey Mattie." He smiled. "What did you call for?"

 ** _"To tell you congratulations. You finally learned how to speak your mind eh?"_** He chuckled.

"Oh don't be so cocky, I didn't see you saying anything over there." The American retorted. He opened the suitcase, beginning to put his notes from the earlier conference into them. "They're really mad at me huh?"

**_"Yeah, good luck trying to talk to them now."_ **

"Hey, it wasn't that bad? I mean you agree with me right?"

**_"As long as you don't tell them, yeah."_ **

"Alright sure." He laughed.

**_"What are you doing right now actually?"_ **

"Packing up my bags for Germany, I'm going alone so I can relax as much as I want instead of having the General constantly on my back."

 ** _"Alone?"_** The Canadian asked warily.

"Oh yeah, I left that part out purposely." He chuckled. "I didn't want to give Arthur another reason for me to not go."

For a moment, the line went quiet. Alfred could feel the reluctance from his brother, and probably the very same distaste for his choice of traveling. Nevertheless, that soft mild voice once again spoke, only giving his brother a warning. **_"Just be careful there. You know you're going to be surrounded by Soviet land the minute you land in West Berlin right?"_**

"They can't lay a finger on me Mattie" He laughed, trying to relieve the tension. "and if they try, they're going to have to face these muscles!"

 ** _"Heh heh. Okay muscle man. See you next month."_** Matthew snickered.

"Till then!" He exclaimed, waiting for the line to go flat and placing it back on its stand.

He took a look at his suitcase, although it was a bit large, it contained just a couple of suits and papers. There was his briefcase that he often carried with him, but overall it was a very light carry for a trip to Europe. It was good that he didn't stuff his bag with clothing then. He turned his attention back onto the larger paper bag.

Steadily, he grabbed it and carried it back to the bed.

 _*Clink, clink, clank_.

It sounded like metal in a tin can whenever he moved it. He removed it from the bag to take a closer look, curiosity was itching at him. It could be jewelry, or maybe a little gadget. But when he finally took it out, it wasn't exactly what he had described.

In his hand, was a small poorly painted blue rusty tin box and a lid held together by a silk red ribbon. He furrowed his brow, trying his best to examine it. All that anticipation for this? The paint layers were flaking off the box revealing dark orange rust, the only good quality about it was the bow. He shook it again,

_*Cli-clink!_

The thing inside of it sounded small, but a bit heavy. It was definitely a metal, there may be multiple objects in there, but it was also a bit muffled as if blocked by something. _'I wonder what he put in there.'_

After a moment, he simply shrugged and started to wrap the tin box in some tissue to avoid it scratching on some of his clothing. If he was going to appear in Germany, he might as well look good while doing it. 

He moved back to the kitchen, opening a mini fridge as he pulled a bottle of alcohol out. It was a long day, he felt like he deserved a little bit of freedom. He took a long swig of it and landed onto bed on his back, chugging the drink down. Who knows, it could be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bonehead- Replacement word for another word, that I'm not going to use because my morality sirens will go off.
> 
> That's it for Chapter 4. We get a little conversation with our Italian friend this time, I kinda feel bad for putting him in this situation. But next time, we'll see our protagonist in West Berlin, I hope you guys come next time. Stay jazzy and much love.


	5. Reminiscence

a _ West Berlin, East Germany _

_ October 2 1950 _

_ 6:00 PM _

It felt like the air in West Berlin was a bit crispier than the air in NYC. Although it seemed that Ludwig didn't seem to enjoy it as much as Alfred did, cranking the heater in the car high enough to make him regret putting on his fluffy bomber jacket before getting in. He contemplated on asking to turn the heater a bit lower, before quickly pushing away the idea. Things weren't very comfy between the two, in fact he was convinced Ludwig didn't want him here in the first place.

But what could he do? He had tried everything to make him talk, but Ludwig just ignored him. The other nations were easily charmed, of course they were, they had a good relationship. And when Alfred openly expressed his concerns about the Soviet Union, everyone agreed with him. Of course they did, they were the Allies. But Germany wasn't, and that was the problem. He glanced at Ludwig with a friendly smile for a moment hoping that he would notice. The German was moody, it was blatant that he didn't even want to be in the same car as him. Was he still mad about the whole chair incident?

"It's getting cold here huh?" He tried to muster out confidently.

"Mmh." Ludwig grunted back

"I bet it'll start snowing next month."

"Mmh."

He stared at him dumbfounded, before letting out a small sigh and leaning back into the car seat. He'd really hope that things would go a bit smoother than this. He at least thought that maybe Ludwig would try to put a little effort in keeping the conversation afloat. But Ludwig hasn't even responded to most of his questions, or just shut down anything he'd say. It was honestly starting to get embarrassing, seeing that this was the third time he tried and failed to talk about the weather. It worked on Arthur so well, he would ramble off onto speeches on how drastically the weather has been changing, all Alfred had to do was sit there and let him talk.

But Ludwig didn't like to talk about the weather. Or movies. Or even music. Nothing would get him speaking. When he was about to attempt to talk again, the car had pulled into a driveway of a large house. Not sparing a look at him, Ludwig got out of the driver seat and immediately went to get Alfred's luggage out of the trunk. Alfred stared into the space where Ludwig was sitting before following suit.

As he got out of the car, he took some time to admire the house. It was actually quite beautiful. Ludwig made his way with the bag in one hand and an organized set of keys in the other on a small cobblestone pathway. Surrounding it was a lovely garden filled with growing vegetables and some flowers. A section of the walls were covered in a large twisting vine bearing plump purple grapes. Alfred looked in amazement. Ludwig must've put a lot of effort into maintaining such a beautiful yard.

He followed the German into the house, immediately catching glimpse of the glimmering windows shining sunlight into the room from the right. It was finely furnished with sofas, a small TV, and a dinner table. To the left was a neatly kept kitchen with pots and pans hanging from the cupboards. Ludwig was more dismissive about how shiny and new his home looked, quickly leading the suitcases up a flight of stairs, and entered the last door of the hallway.

"This is a really nice place you got here man!"

Ludwig didn't answer, he expected as much. Loud clacks of the mens' business shoes created echoes that bounced around the empty home. The room was a typical guest room, nothing too different then what you'd see at a hotel. All in all, it was actually better than decent.

"Thanks for the-"

"There's a kitchen on the first floor. I'll be cooking dinner at 6:30 and if you're not there by 7:30, then I'll assume that you're not hungry. When you are, I'll leave an extra meal in the refrigerator and you may use the microwave to heat it up, any questions?" Ludwig said, cutting him off.

He turned his head towards the German in a bit of disbelief and annoyance for being interrupted. Ludwig only glared back with a stoic expression, waiting for a response. After a passing moment, Alfred simply let out a 'No', letting Ludwig finally leave the room to prepare his ingredients.

As soon as the door shut, the American sighed in relief, thankful to being alone instead of constantly having to be stuck with him all the time. It was exhausting trying to act jubile in front of the unemotional stone wall of a guy who didn't even look like he cared. But he needed to keep up his reputation, even around mute stone walls. It made him feel.. invisible like before he joined the war. But now he was in the spotlight and they were all watching, waiting to see what he would do next. It was strange to be ignored by such a powerful nation, especially when he was basically funding Western Europe after the destruction.

That steely look Ludwig always had during meetings, not to mention his eye patch never helped. Alfred was sure that his eye must have healed by now, and at least still be working but, nevertheless it was still covered. Ludwig was built like a killing machine, large muscles and was probably a very strong guy. That only added to his scary demeanor, people at meetings would avoid him like the plague. He didn't talk much at the G8 summits, and when he did, his voice was scratched and gruff. Of course, Ludwig still wore very formal outfits, slicked back hair, usually had on a black tie, dark green if he was feeling a bit flamboyant. Even when he picked Alfred up, he wore a complete suit.  _ 'But I thought that maybe he'd drop the fancy shtick at his own house. Guess not.' _ It was actually a bit frightening to be alone with the German. With the Allies, he could crack a joke or two and they'd laugh. But with him? He wouldn't even crack his mouth open to talk. Nothing he did or said got any reaction out of him. Any good reactions at least.

_ 'But I can't blame him.'  _ he thought. Lifting a dark navy blue suitcase up onto the hard bed, he started to unzip it and remove the variant clothing he had packed from his closet back in the states and some gifted from Francis. Ludwig has been through a lot these past couple of years and it wasn't his fault that he wasn't in the chattering mood. Especially after the trial they attended nearly four years and a half ago.

He paused from taking out his neatly folded suits and looked out the window, staring into the distance, watching the dark blanket of the night replace the bleak gray sky. _'I think that was the last time he saw Gilbert right? Before Ivan took him.'_ As soon as the name popped into his mind he subconsciously gritted his teeth. They haven't talked in a long time especially after that big fight. _'Ivan._ _That dickbag was smiling as he escorted Gilbert away. There was so much yelling that day, particularly from Ludwig.'_

He removed his jacket and roughly grabbed a pair of suspenders from the suitcase, the memory of that day still rolling in his mind like a cinema. On that day, Ludwig was completely silent in the court. There was blood leaking through his old bandages, his breaths sounded more like heaves, and not to mention his eye. Oh god his eye. A churning in the American's stomach made him well aware of how nauseous at the moment he was. There were swollen black circles around his right eye, and a thick bloody cut that ran right through it, obviously fresh. The wound was so shiny and unbearable to look at. The scabs that surrounded it had small individual cracks, allowing blood to run down his face, staining the tattered uniform he had on. Soviet soldiers surrounded him like barking dogs, constantly yelling at him to stand up, kicking him when he started to limp. He nearly collapsed into the chair at the courtroom, not bothering to listen to the judge. However when the judge ruled that East Germany was to be occupied by the Soviet country. It looked like his heart dropped to his stomach, his mouth agape. Despite his injuries, he struggled against the Russian soldiers, crying to Gilbert as Ivan dragged the ex-nation away. Obscenities were yelled, people were hurt, but in the end, Ludwig was too weak to reach him. Alfred was only a spectator in this. He had to help hold back the German along with three other men to stop him from tearing the Russian apart. This was when he and him were still together. And only now he realized that man was an absolute psychopath.

Alfred hastily moved the half-empty suitcase aside, taking a seat in the empty slot. The strange reminiscence that he had just experienced just now made his head spin a bit. He held in his stomach and covered his mouth. How had he managed to overlook all the terrible things Ivan did? His body lurched over, he felt like he was going to puke.

He really did feel bad for the German now. He hasn't been in contact with his brother in so long, it must be so lonely for him. And a part of himself couldn't help but feel guilty. Ludwig had changed a lot, he knew this. But this was the punishment he had been given, and Alfred was one of the people who watched him crumble. Maybe that's the reason Ludwig isn't talking to him.

His eyes wandered around the room. Maybe it was a bad idea agreeing to come here. His host didn't like him and for good reason. He rubbed his face, considering the options of just flying back to the USA. Then, he would actually be surrounded with people who actually like him!

_ 'But then I'd be giving up at the same time, wouldn't I?' _ He thought miserably.  _ 'I'd be surrendering to Ivan.' _

He looked back up, almost laughing at the thought.  _ 'As if I would surrender! When the hell have I ever backed down from a battle?' _

He huffed at the thought of Ivan's smug face looking down at him. How ridiculous! He was currently one of the strongest countries, if not the strongest. So far he has had a successful trip with every single country he has visited. What matters if this time the guy's a bit of a challenge? It was only the first day.

How could Ludwig not want to be his friend? He was charming, funny, and a delight! There's nothing stopping him, all he had to do was make the German happy to be around him.

He shot up and went back to organizing his clothes, more determined than ever.  _ 'Mark my words Ludwig that by the end of this month, we're going to be best friends!' _

By the time he had finished placing all his items in order, it was already around 7:30. But there was one thing that prevented him from doing anything else at the moment. He held that small tin box in his hand. Feliciano obviously wanted him to give this to Ludwig on his birthday right? Although he didn't say that, there could've been any other time Feli had to ask him to nonchalantly pass this to Ludwig. But then again, this could make his relationship better with him too. He studied the box momentarily, turning his wrist to look at the bow. However, he had also noticed the clock on his he realized that it was well after 7:30 and the thought of missing another opportunity to improve their relationship wasn't something he planned on doing. Quickly, he rushed down the large mahogany stairs into the kitchen where Ludwig was preparing a plate of food for himself. Unshockingly, the loud thumps Alfred had created while getting there surprised the German. And even though his hair was frizzled from how fast he ran there, and his suspenders were now falling off his shoulders, all he was able to focus on was how he got Ludwig to show some emotion, although not a lot, he gladly took that wide-eyed expression as a total win.

"Are you going to eat some food?" the American asked excitingly.

"Ja?" Ludwig answered hesitantly. He couldn't tell if this was a trick question.

"Can I eat some food with you?" Alfred asked again, now bubbling with a joyous anticipation.

"Ja?"

Gasping loudly, he exclaimed, "Really? That's so awesome dude! Thanks!"

Ludwig nodded, still confused on what exactly was going on. Alfred on the other hand, seemed to be on cloud nine. Happily, he started to help himself to a generous serving of mash potatoes, cooked sausages, and a side of mixed vegetables. He sat on the opposite side of the table, allowing his million-watt smile to unfurl as he started swallowing the food in large bites. The German questioned the American's dinner manners as he too began to eat.

"Woah man. This mash potato is really good!" Alfred said with his mouth full.

"Oh. Thank you." Ludwig muttered out.

' _ Three words this time, now we're getting somewhere.'  _ "Who taught you how to make this stuff?"

"My brother did." he said.

Alfred stopped eating, to look at him in horror.  _ 'Shit.' _ But when he saw his face, it didn't seem as if Ludwig was bothered at all. In fact, he was.. smiling. It was very subtle for sure, but his face seemed more relaxed than before.

"He's a really good cook then right?" The American said, hoping that the smile showed positive signs for an engaging conversation.

That smile quickly disappeared as soon as Alfred spoke. The German went back to his stern glare and his bowl of unfinished food. Alfred inwardly sighed in disappointment.  _ 'It was going to be a long month for them.' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Alright, and that concludes Chapter 5. This is a bit short than usual actually, and the next one might be a bit short too. Sorry for that, I really do apologize but I'm really saving it off for chapter 7&8! Please stick with us, I promise you won't regret it. We'll see a glimpse of our other characters soon. Stay classy and much love.


	6. Confidence

_ West Berlin, East Germany _

_ October 3, 1950 _

_ 6:30 AM _

Even though he had just arrived here, he needed to get down to business quickly. Don't get him wrong, he loved spending time with people, but there was an actual reason there in the first place. His current goal was to get friendlier with his host. But how was he going to talk with Ludwig if it was going to end up being those one sided conversation scenarios? He looked out the window of the small bedroom, watching the sun start to peek out into the midnight blue sky.

Lazily flipping his wrist above him, he squinted to read the time on the small watch.  _ '6:30' _ He yawned tiredly, letting his wrist fall back onto the bed. It was too early to be asking questions. He could probably sleep for another hour and a half, but he wanted to at least look presentable. After his little pep talk from yesterday, it was important to him that he'd make a good impression. And that all started with him actually being productive. He slowly got out of the bed, feeling the cold shock of the morning air wake him up. Moving for his glasses, he softly patted the nightstand besides him until he could once again feel Texas laying there.

He placed them onto his nose gently and started to stretch out his body. He made his way to the closet, shuffling through the clothing he had unpacked from last night. They were all pretty laid-back, he wasn't too comfortable with wearing complete suits. But it was getting colder and vacation outfits weren't exactly the best choice he could choose. Sighing, he changed into a plain white long sleeved button down with a red tie and a diamond-patterned vest. He grabbed a long brown coat to substitute his bomber jacket. If Ludwig was going to turn up the heat in his car like he did yesterday, then it would be wise to wear something not fluffy. Turning to the large mirror on the closet door, he looked at the outfit he had just put together. It wasn't bad. Formal enough but still a bit casual.

As he walked towards his bathroom, a sort of tingle shivered down his back. He couldn't describe it into words, but it felt weird. Probably because he didn't get any good vibes here in Berlin. The city itself was surrounded by Soviet land. There were definitely some soviet spies here, especially since Ivan now knew he was here.  _ 'Maybe I'm being too paranoid.'  _ he thought, pulling out a small plaid cricket hat from his suitcase. It covered most of his hair except for Nantucket, the pesky little thing. He pushed back all the other items back into the bag and suddenly his hand hit something hard but cushioned, while grabbing a couple of toiletries. He looked down at the object, with the intent of just throwing it in the closet for the time being.

The moment he saw it, he froze. It was a brown leather holster with a Smith and Wesson gun neatly tucked into it, out of sight. It wasn't one of those CIA wielding shotguns, it was one of those vintage revolvers with wooden handles, the type that you'd imagine a cowboy holding. It had large cursive letters, 'A.F.J' carved into the barrel. He remembered packing this on all the trips he went on, merely to show the others little tricks he could pull with it. But now that he was here, he wasn't too sure if Ludwig would find it pleasing if he was holding a gun on him, especially without his knowledge. It was a long moment of hesitation. If Ludwig caught him holding the revolver, then he may feel that his presence was threatening to Alfred.

_ 'Pfft as if.' _

But then again, they may be endangered. Alfred gulped nervously. Now that was something he didn't want to risk.

After a bit more reluctance, he grabbed the brown holster and clipped it onto the inners of his jacket. He took a final look in the mirror, nervously checking that it was concealed. The choice he made on bringing a gun felt wrong to him, but that shiver he got a moment back was all the assurance he needed to make the decision. It wasn't like he was betraying his trust or anything.  _ 'Better just be safe than sorry.'  _ the final thoughts murmured into his ears as he shut the door.

He walked past Ludwig's room and took another look at his watch.  _ '7:00' _ There was a clatter of noise coming from downstairs and a strange yet homely waft of breakfast. Although it was still early in the day, Alfred's stomach growled at the scent of food. It was good to get guilty thoughts of bringing a gun off with the taste of eggs and toast.

Moving faster, he popped his head around the corridor and said, "Ludwig, are you making something?" Apparently, a bit too loudly.

Although his back was facing him, he could see the German flinch and move off to a side of the counter, quickly fumbling something in his hands and placing the thing onto his head. After setting it into place, he turned towards his excited guest.

"Oh ja, breakfast." He grunted, still holding that stone cold face he had held before. From the way the American saw him flinch back there, he had expected him to look more surprised. But Ludwig didn't even seem to acknowledge him or look at him. "I didn't expect for you to be up this early Alfred."

"Oh yeah man, I just thought it'd be good if we could finish our work ahead of time today." Alfred said happily, eyeing the hot red sausages flicking oil off the pan.

Ludwig didn't seem fazed at all by what Alfred had asked, absentmindedly moving towards the stove. "Why? Is there a reason? We can always reschedule-"

"What? No it's not like that." He jittered. "I just wanted to see if we could walk around West Berlin a bit, show me where everything is y'know?"

Ludwig stopped flipping the sausages over on their sides. The sound of the sizzling pan filled in the silence he had left. Alfred looked nervously at him in fear he may have said the wrong thing. This time, Ludwig definitely showed some emotion, judging by how he paused. But that wasn't exactly the emotions he was going for.

"..How come?" He finally muttered, going back to tending the stove.

"It's something I ask all the countries I visit, and I haven't been in this capital in a long time." Alfred said, looking at him expectantly.

Ludwig turnt his back against him, scooping the breakfast into two small plates. He grabbed some toasted bread, placing them next to the sausages. He hadn't yet answered the American's question, leaving Alfred clinging with anticipation. After setting the pan into the sink, he hunched and sighed heavily, his back still facing Alfred.

"I suppose we could fit in a tour of our city today." He mumbled. " It'll be handy when we go over construction."

"You mean it man? That's great!" Alfred exclaimed.

Ludwig allowed the American continue cheering his way to the dinner table as he scrubbed the pan from any remaining grease. Steam gently floated upwards as the pan cooled down. He stared at the steam, watching it disappear.

_ 'This was a good decision right?' _ He asked himself, grabbing another pan off the stove. Slowly he slid an omelet onto the plates, delicately placing them onto the toast. His face flushed at the thought of the question.

He set the larger portioned one in front of Alfred which he gratefully thanked for and began snarfing it down. Ludwig sat down with his own breakfast, embarrassing thoughts flooding his head. Well by embarrassing, he just meant emotions in general.

Alfred has been trying to be nice ever since the last meeting to him. A memory of him listening in on the American and his family popped up.  _ 'He even stood up to them about me.' _ Ludwig stabbed his egg, tearing it apart.  _ 'Why did he do that? Is it to set an example? But Kiku would've been easier to present.' _ He took a bite of a sausage as his brow furrowed. Even if it was to set an example, he didn't have to continue being nice to him in East Berlin. Ludwig was sure that Alfred hadn't suffered memory loss and forgotten what Ludwig had done. There was no one here he needed to impress. That is, unless..

_ *Bu-bump Bu-bump _

He heaved out a sigh, rubbing his right eye as it painfully throbbed. It'd be best if he just dropped the question altogether. Not only did he not have his medicinal pills with him right now, but he couldn't make a scene in front of a guest by having an anxiety attack. That'd just be unprofessional.

\----------------------------------------

_ Moscow, Russia _

_ September 12th, 1950 _

_ 5:23 PM _

It was dark in there. Well that was fine, there wasn't much to look at in here anyways. It wasn't as if he had designed it to be anything special. Just a couple of bookshelves lining the wall, an old rug, and a desk. A large window behind him could spot the main city brimming with light.

Where Ivan was at the moment wasn't for the ordinary citizens. The only source of light that could be traced in that room was a small illuminating desk lamp that sat on a large wooden table along with pillars and pillars of paperwork. A small disappointed sigh slipped out of his mouth once he took another look at them. However the sound of the howling wind set his mind at ease. Unlike everyone else in the building, he didn't turn on the heater. Being used to the cold, it was actually soothing.

He had to sign and look over documents for his government, and not to mention the World Summit meeting plans. He hasn't even touched those yet. Nevertheless, he needed to get them finished by Friday. If not, then..

_ *Slam! _

"Sir what exactly were you implying back there?" A small thin man raged.

He looked up from the current files he was reading, staring at the small fuming shadow marching up to his desk. Like he had described before, the room was dark. Only until the man walked closer to him, he recognized exactly who it was.

It was a general, one that was especially close with their Soviet leader. Although that friendship between them may have given his mind too much of a taste for power. For him, a lowly man to step in here without warning?  _ 'How ignorant.' _

They had recently been in a meeting together, where Ivan announced his plans to him and some other branching generals. If he knew that he was going to storm into his office like this, he probably wouldn't have included him in the plan altogether.

He planted his face into his hands for a moment, taking in a deep breath. There was a pounding headache banging in his head like a gong, he neither had the will nor the patience to deal with him. Slowly, he stood from his chair and approached the general who still had the audacity to continue yapping like a dog. He has never really liked loud things, he found them to be quite annoying.

_ 'Except for him.' _ he thought. An image of that happy American's face popped up into his mind. It was strange as of why, but he couldn't help but feel content when he saw that bright smile of his. 

He turned to the angry general in front of him, feeling that tranquility disappear. He walked past the general, a drop of temperature following in his footsteps.

"Exactly what I said earlier." Ivan spoke, reaching for one on the catalogs on his antique shelves. "Send him to East Berlin." He couldn't see what the issue was, and at the moment, he had work to be done.

The general sputtered. "But you can't be serious?"

"Why, is there a problem?" He gritted. "I've given you the maximum amount of supplies that I could offer you, and the soldiers there have already been-"

"No it's just-"

"Just what, General Vailiez?" He snapped. His eyes glowed a deep maroon purple, daring the man to continue. Judging by his stance, he was about to strangle the little old man till he turned blue.

He lightly shuddered, softly mumbling, "Apologies Sir."

"Go on."

"What would happen if he escapes? We haven't yet built the wall and the Prussian could easily find his way out!"

Ivan stifled a laugh.  _ 'Was this what he barged into his office for? Ridiculous.' _ The general stared at him, like he would at a mad man. Though to him, what was the difference?

"I very much appreciate your worriedness," Ivan said, a malicious grin dancing on his lips. "but do not fret."

He placed the book down on his table, tracing its old leather cover. "I don't think you understand the power I hold over him. He wouldn't dare do something irrational even without me physically being there, watching him. I'm sure life here has been very difficult for him. Think of it as giving him a small vacation."

He turned back to the general, that smile still on his face. "It is all part of a plan."

He stepped closer to him, the smile quickly melting away, his eyes glowing an odd psychotic-like purple. "And unless you want to die next week, you'll help me in this, to better stabilize our union. Are we clear, General?"

\----------------------------------------

_ West Berlin, East Germany _

_ October 3, 1950 _

_ 7:45 AM _

"Hey Ludwig, can we go and get some coffee before we tour this place a little more?" Alfred asked, dragging Ludwig to a sign plastered on one of the small cozy looking cafes. It was still a bit early, but it seemed like the citizens here had the same mindset of getting up when the sun did.

The sidewalks were filled with bustling people, not many of them were holding any conversations. And those who did were very quiet about it. It kind of threw Alfred off. Unlike in Berlin, whether it be Los Angeles or New York City, it was often quite noisy there. Honking streets, loud chattering, sounds of bicycle bells were a norm for him. But now he was just surrounded by silence despite the abundance of people around him. In fact, thinking about it more made him feel a bit queasy.

The German stared at him questioningly. "I seem to remember you having a cup of coffee when we were eating breakfast."

"Ah.. Yeah I did. But I'm going to need a bit more if I'm going to stay energized today." He said, pushing the door open. Ludwig made no gesture to protest against him and followed him into the store.

An older lady with aging streaks of grey in her hair popped out from the display shelves with a surprised look on her face. Nevertheless, she immediately beamed and rushed to greet them.

" **Welcome gentlemen! I'm sorry I appeared a bit shocked back there, I didn't expect any customers till 8'!** " She said, naturally in german. Alfred did his best to hone in on what she was saying. Although he had been learning german for a couple of years, he was still a bit rusty when it came to listening. " **Come, I'll guide you to your seats."** She led them to a small table for two, courteously setting down menus for them. " **It may take a while for me to get you any pastries, but I would gladly offer you some *mini berliners if you'd like!** "

" **Oh no thank you, we just need some cups of coffee and we'll be on our way.** " Alfred said, managing his best to perfect his german accent while speaking. Ludwig looked at him, slightly shocked, but again he didn't say anything.

The old lady looked at Alfred for a moment, a slow movement of realization going through her mind. " **Are you an American?** "

He smiled dishearteningly, motivation convincing him he'll get it next time. " **Yeah, I'm here on a business trip.** " He continued, watching a bright smile glowing on her face.

" **A handsome young man like you already here on business?** " She made her way to a coffee machine, pressing the americano button. " **You must've been very ambitious to get here.** "

He chuckled softly, looking at one of the metal racks of fresh newspapers. " **Yeah, something like that.** "

" **And your german is very good for a foreigner, was your mother german?** "

He smiled, flattered, and waved his hand in amusement. " **No, actually I had a childhood friend that taught me the language.** "

She turned back to them, holding a large mug. Gesturing to the larger, quieter man she asked. " **Is this the friend?** "

Alfred quickly looked at him, then back at the lady. Confidently, he said " **Yeah, him and his brother were one of my closest friends before they moved back here. We're actually reuniting after five years.** " Ludwig looked back at him, taken aback.

Although he said they were close, that wasn't really the truth, if that's supposed to be surprising. There wasn't a moment that Ludwig could remember where him and the American talked together like they were friends. In fact he was the exact opposite of that. Ludwig was supposed to be an enemy of his, or at least someone to look down upon. He watched Alfred blow the coffee lightly, still continuing his conversation with the old lady. After everything he has done, how could America sit down and happily call him a friend?

Even if it was just all a lie, doesn't he hold any integrity of being associated with him? His throat felt like there was something caught in it, his mind went blank. The women looked at him expectantly, waiting for his reply.

He sat there, his mouth slightly ajared. He kept racing through his mind, but it was no use. It was like chasing threads that all led to a dead-end. However, a thought streaked past him. His expression broke into realization, although it sounded somewhat absurd. But the fact still stood that there really was no other explanation.  _ 'Does he really want to be my friend?' _

After that, he felt like he was pulled back into reality, the shopkeeper still staring at him. He coughed out softly, " **Guten morgen.** "

The woman smiled kindly at him. "He's very shy huh?"

" **Oh um, yeah! He may not seem like it, but he could get really loud if he had to.** "

Ludwig looked down, a bit flustered. He watched how easily Alfred talked with the woman, as if he just went with the flow of things. The American never seemed to care at all about people's judgements. Well not like anyone would try saying something bad about him when he's helping them. But he always just says whatever that was on his mind, and made it look simple too.  _ 'Say whatever that was on his mind..' _

Alfred chuckled along with the woman as she headed to the kitchen. "  **Alright gentlemen, call me if you need anything else!"**

America enthusiastically waved goodbye to her, taking a large sip of his coffee absentmindedly. "She's really nice huh?" He asked rhetorically, glancing out the window.

"Ja, she is." Ludwig blurted.

Alfred paused from his leisurely sip and looked back at him.  _ 'Did he really just answer me?' _ He asked himself. Even with its subtlety, he could see the red slowly flowing into the German's face. He cracked out a smile, one that almost wanted to make him laugh. But he couldn't embarrass Ludwig now when he had the courage to finally talk.

"So could you tell me a little bit more about those mini berliners she was talking about?" Alfred asked, hoping to dig deeper into the conversation.

"They're small jam-filled donuts with sugar sprinkled onto it." Ludwig explained, still avoiding any form of eye contact.

"Hey that actually sounds really good!" Alfred exclaimed, taking another swig of his mug.

"Ja, my bruder seems to like them as well."

Alfred winced at him mentioning his brother, expecting him to be angry, or saddened for him to be mentioned. But once he looked back at Ludwig, he had that expression from last night. The one where he  _ smiled _ in.

"Then how 'bout we get some?" He asked. "I'm sure that anything he likes has to be good right?"

"Mmm, ja." He muttered.

Alfred excitedly finished off the rest of his coffee and led Ludwig towards the register where the older lady had been working behind. They ordered a bag of donuts, much to the woman's delight.

The two stepped back out into the morning air, Alfred trying his best to start conversations with Ludwig as they walked down the street. The German made an effort as well to relate to whatever the American was saying.

_ 'If he's giving me a chance, I should take it.'  _ They thought simultaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected, huh? Sorry for that, I was a bit caught up in things. But that concludes the ending of Chapter 6! To clear up some things: Yes, Ludwig was the one eavesdropping on the FACE family. Yes, Ivan was referring to Gilbert. Also just remember that when Ivan sent Gilbert to East Berlin, it was before the meeting at France. It must've been weird not seeing Ivan in such a long time huh? You better buckle up for the next chapter, it's going to be a roller coaster. P.S. Germany and America have a platonic friendship here. Stay classy and much love.


	7. Trust

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 3, 1950_

_6:23 PM_

The two walked silently down the road, the sun starting to set over the horizon behind them. There were more citizens on the sidewalks then there was this morning, seeing as this was a Saturday. They were currently heading to the pubs in the city to continue their tours and honestly, both of them were in seemingly good moods.

Alfred was moving with a bit more pep in his walk than usual, Nantucket bouncing happily with every step he took. Ludwig was more or less, the same then he left the house, but you could clearly tell that his demeanor had changed. His face was relaxed, he actually looked like he was letting his mind wander for once.

Seeing him in such tranquility, Alfred really couldn't help but smile brighter. It felt like he just took a major step in their friendship. A happy, bubbly sensation was brewing in his heart. Though this wasn't really all that big, it still was rewarding, to feel this accomplished.

He took a glance around the street, spotting antique stores and boutiques of all kinds. They were all slightly bland when it came to advertisement, but he couldn't help the temptation of admiring the small gimmicks that were shown in the display glass. Catching his eye, he looked in the glass to his left, spotting a large vintage sparkling globe basking in the what remaining sunlight there was left.

He bent down a bit, taking a closer look at it. It had glittering golden rims, holding the axis of it upright. Although its colors were definitely starting to fade, that really only added to its charm. Now that he thought about it, it'd be nice to look at his desk back in the states. Maybe some polishing, and a bit of cleaning, then it'd fit right in. And they still had a little bit of time before it got dark, they could buy it real quick and get to the pub just in time. He looked around for its price tag, hoping he could haul it with him during his trip, when he couldn't help but notice something reflecting off the glass. Someone, actually.

He squinted at the barely visible silhouette. Although he couldn't fully recognize them, they wore a thin coat and a hat. Their head was slightly turnt to the left, making their face completely covered by the hat's dark shadow. He could've swore he saw a man that looked like that behind them around thirty minutes ago. At first he thought nothing of it, but it was strange for a man to be trailing them for half an hour, straight.

Ludwig paused and saw Alfred bending downwards, also spotting the globe he was facing. "Alfred, do you see something you like?" He asked in his monotone, not noticing what the American was actually looking at.

"Hey, come in with me for a moment." Alfred said bluntly, and not even sparing him a look, he got up and entered the shop. He snapped out of his daze immediately after hearing that. Though he was a little bit confused, he knew better than to ask him so openly. He followed him in without hesitation, simply giving the American a suspicious stare.

Alfred made a direct beeline towards the register, starting up a conversation with the cashier, a plastered on his face. Ludwig shifted his footing, awkwardly browsing through some old bookshelves with sale stickers on them. Usually, he was the type to ask questions and take the lead. But then again, approaching the suspect in questioning with a friendly attitude was more.. appealing than an obvious war soldier with visible battle scars and an eyepatch.

The longer he stood there, staring off into space, growing more annoyed as more time passed by. He grunted softly, twitching his eyes. Fitting in was a bit more difficult then he had anticipated. People inside the shop were giving him strange looks, ones more terrified than others. Was his appearance really that scary?

He tried to shake the stares off, grabbing a random book off the shelves. If he ignored them, they would eventually stop looking. He opened a page of the book, and tried his best to look as focused as possible on the page he turned to. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he was holding a picture book, the page that he was on containing a depiction of a cartoonish pirate steering a ship staring back at him. He looked at it in disbelief, then looked back up to see which section he was in, spotting a sign with the boldened letters, ' **Kid's Section'** The feeling of embarrassment slowly starting to creep in as he looked back down at the book. _'I feel as if I am being mocked by a childrens' story.'_

Slowly, despite the strong grip he held on it, he placed the book back down, trying his best not to crush it and walked into the 'Health/Fitness' aisle. The stares followed him as he entered it. Some good exercising is exactly what he needs to release some steam. Alfred will deal with whatever he came in here to do, and at the moment, he can find a good routine to try out for next week or something.

Alfred continuously glanced out the window every couple of seconds. As his conversation with the lady went on, he could feel his dread increase as he studied every single person that passed the shop. After about a minute, he thanked the woman behind the counter, and headed to the direction she pointed to.

 _'I'm already being spied on? I didn't think Ivan would act on this so soon.'_ He thought, stopping at a cardboard box full of small objects on one of the tables in the back store. He dug through one of them, finally pulling out what looked like a small metal disc. Before he made his way back to the register, he gave the window one final look. No one passed by it. He heaved out a heavy sigh and walked to the cashier.

There was that hint of impending doom crawling into him, like a sound of a drummer marching slowly towards him. It was a feeling he had relived through many other times, but only now could he hear that drummer so clearly, as if it was standing there, eagerly anticipating the American's downfall.

He clenched the metal item tightly in his hand, not hearing the crack that emitted from it. His strides towards the cashier felt long, as if he was walking down a never ending hallway. His legs felt slightly heavy, he could start to feel the panic stir up in him. He gulped nervously, handing the cashier the disk. _'Why today, of all days? How come it couldn't have been tomorrow or the day after that?'_ He asked himself. His hands got clammy in his furred leather gloves, sweat starting to grow on his forehead. He really couldn't catch a break anymore. People were always watching what he was going to say or do, always so quick to judge.

When he landed here in Berlin, in an area he hadn't been to in years, he thought of this as a place he could just get away from his facade of always being on top of things. He didn't have to act like he had everything under control. Somewhere, where he could just be _vulnerable._

But it was pretty dumb to think that, wasn't it. He wasn't alone, he never was. Everywhere he went, he always managed to tail behind him. In France, England, even his own congress, the place he was supposed to be safe. He would always be there, watching him and everything he'd do. Why did he think that he'd be safe in a city that's border to the Soviet Union was only a mile away?

In that exact moment, he could picture Ivan standing behind him, a large grin on his face. He rested his head and arms onto a large black scythe, mocking him like he was the grim reaper himself. After giving him that sickening smile, his body inched closer and closer to him, savoring the panic rising in Alfred's mind. That unnerving aura he gave off, the way he looked down on him. The image of his malicious smile and the way his eyes look like they were folding upon themselves in dread the longer you looked at them, was so vivid, he could almost imagine..

That he was actually there.

Without any thinking or reasoning, Alfred quickly whipped his head around just as he was about to receive the metal item he had just purchased. His eyes were widened, his stance changed, he gritted his teeth, only to realize that nothing was there. There stood no Ivan, or anybody in fact. There stood shelves and old tables, just as it had before. It was only his imagination, and he was okay. But to ever think of something like that and get so unhinged that he did that on instinct? He clenched his fist tightly. It almost felt shameful.

"Uh sir?" The cashier said softly, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah? Oh, I'm really sorry, I thought I felt something." Alfred explained, laughing away awkwardly. He reached out and grabbed the item, rubbing his hand behind his neck.

"That's fine! Thank you for shopping and enjoy your night!"

"You too."

He tried to keep his smile up as long as he could, but it was clear to tell that it was cracking. He turned his head forward, letting go of the smile as soon as he did. All that was left was a dissatisfied frown. He blinked, feeling the weight of his eyelids when they crashed back down. Were they always this heavy? He felt the temptation to yawn, shutting it down immediately. _'What was he thinking? He had to put his best face forward in situations like these.'_ There was an invisible force pulling down on his shoulder as he walked away. It was exhausting to carry this burden around with him, whenever he went anywhere. An inescapable prison. As if it was Ivan himself, there pulling him back, dragging his feet. And he would just smile, every single time he could feel himself strain his body and mentality to make it through the day. Like a tic draining his energy.

Just thinking about it made him feel worn-out. He held his head up high, and continued to walk forward. He couldn't deny that his change of stance didn't change anything. There was no burst of confidence, or determination. It wasn't helping him in any way. But he knew who it did. Even if he wasn't confident inside, that didn't mean it wouldn't convince the people he was on the outside. He spotted Ludwig in a section of the store, and made his way to him.

Alfred has used this tactic so many times during meetings or speeches. He just had to motivate them to cooperate with him. All he needed was a brave face to put on display.

He walked to Ludwig who seemed deeply immersed in a book he was holding although his back was facing him. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice Alfred standing next to him.

"Hey Ludwig, you got somethin' interesting in your hands?"

"Ja, I think I'll buy it." He said absent-mindedly, not noticing the change of tone in the American's voice.

"Alright, let's go and buy it then." He said, motioning Ludwig to the register.

Ludwig closed the book and turned to Alfred, suspicion dripping from his voice. It was the first time in a while since he saw the chipper, young nation so serious. He placed his arms to his side and asked, "You seemed to be in a hurry, what's the problem?"

Alfred once again looked out the window, as if he was checking for something. After a few seconds, he stepped closer and muttered quietly, "We're being followed."

"Pardon?" Ludwig asked. He couldn't tell if Alfred was trying to play him like a joke.

"Yeah, that's why I needed to buy something real quick."

"What is it that you bought?"

"I'll explain it to you outside, but right now, you gotta get that book." Ludwig gave him an affirmative nod, not further questioning him. They both understood that in times like these, there really was no time to waste.

"We can't keep our friend waiting out there too long." Alfred chuckled mischievously.

As they both walked to the cashier, Ludwig asked him, "Do you plan on purchasing that globe you were looking at before?"

Alfred smiled, laughing out, "Nah, it's really pretty and all but I can't run with that thing in my hands."

He grunted in response and placed his book in the pocket of his coat. They re-entered the chilly german air, walking down the same road they were originally on.

Alfred took his leather gloved hands out of his pocket, revealing a small hand mirror in his palm. Ludwig eyed it, letting out a sigh of air. It's been a while since he had been placed in this type of situation. He wasn't too sure if he was feeling up to any escapade right now. He actually just thought this as troublesome. There wasn't going to be any trouble for them to lose a spy.

"Hey Ludwig, are there any connected alleyways near here?" The American spoke up, flicking the mirror open. There was a large crack in the middle with small branches of cracks leading from it. He looked puzzled at it. Did he squeeze it so hard that he cracked it? He sighed, rotating the mirror, fixating it on the people behind them.

After squinting at it, he spotted that same guy that was behind them from before they entered the antique shop, still following them. He tried to look closer at them, but it was no use. The guy's head was still turned to the side, making it difficult to see their face. Their coat was flapping against the wind, something seeming like it was poking out from it. If he looked closer, he could identify what was on the coat.

"Mmm, ja. Turn left at the end of the street and then into the second gap. But I've never explored that area well." Ludwig answered.

"That's fine man, all we got to do is hop from area to area, and then we.." Alfred started to explain, suddenly pausing. Ludwig waited for him to finish that sentence, but never heard the words come out. The American was too fixated on the mirror to continue.

"Holy shit.." Alfred muttered quietly. Ludwig directed his attention back to Alfred, a small sense of dread filling his stomach.

"We gotta go, now." Alfred said, grabbing his arm and bolted down the street, making a sharp turn at the left.

The man behind them quickly followed suit, turning at the left as well.

Ludwig stumbled at the sudden grab of his coat. "What's the matter?" He yelled.

"That guy's got a gun." Alfred said back, a blank look on his face.

Ludwig's eyes widened, but they didn't stay like that for long. He fastened his pace, hearing the loud thumps of their pursuer chasing behind them. Normally, he wouldn't be so panicked, having been in situations where he was held at gunpoint, able to feel the cold metal pressed against his head. But he knew that most of his citizens that were just spending an evening roaming the streets haven't. He couldn't put them in danger, not the people he valued the most.

They turned into the second alley as Ludwig had mentioned previously, the pursuer hot on their trail. Alfred almost felt a bit shocked, seeing how fast the guy could run. If they had gone down a different path in life, they could have probably made it to the Olympics.

Just as the man turned into the alley, he stopped for a moment, and took aim at them.

_*Bang!_

The gun sounded loudly, echoing down the alleys. It had surely caught the attention of some of the people nearby. Thankfully, the first bullet missed. Though it wasn't shy of hitting Alfred's leg. He was grateful that it missed, letting out a huge sigh. It would've been really annoying to walk around with an injured leg, despite it's healing ability. The next bullet however, wasn't as merciful as the last.

He took aim again, as they were about to disappear from his sight.

_*Bang!_

Alfred was able to get a glance behind them, watching the bullet fly at them at lightning speed. This one, definitely wasn't going to miss. But it wasn't going to hit him. His eye jolted back onto Ludwig, who was a couple steps ahead of him. It was definitely going to hit Ludwig, and will probably knock him out for a couple of weeks if he was lucky. They were so close to escaping.. But there wasn't much time to react, he had to act fast. _'Not today.'_ He thought furiously. Why were they even being chased down in the first place? Isn't this too much for a small welcoming from Ivan?

He grabbed Ludwig and quickly hugged him from behind, knocking them behind the corner. The bullet was fired, and it just barely missed Alfred's throat. They stumbled a bit, seeing that the force Alfred had placed in that push was a lot, but not too much to handle. Despite their little hiccup, they continued into the alley, rushing into the farthest opening they could manage.

As soon as they slid in there with their narrow escape, they took a moment to breathe. The blood was coursing through their body, but it was nothing compared to hundreds of years on the battlefield. Alfred caught up with Ludwig, letting him take the lead. But still, how long has it been since he felt this type of rush? It's been so long since he had been shot at, been chased down by someone with the malicious intent of killing them. It almost could be described as refreshing. But the person chasing them really could work on their aim.

Alfred continued to pant, his arms holding up his body by placing them on his knees. His face almost felt numb by how cold the air was. Realization hit him that he was shot at and his eyes widened. Frantically, he felt around his throat for any signs of bleeding or punctures, and thank goodness there weren't any. He sighed out of relief, thankful his nice shirt wasn't going to be spoiled today.

"Hey Ludwig, are you alright?" Alfred asked, directing his attention back onto his buddy. He was also panting, holding himself up by gripping onto the brick wall. Ludwig looked at him, baffled and enraged. There was an angry expression on his face, similar to the chair incident but much more intense.

"What were you thinking, you could've been shot!" He yelled, not paying mind to his volume. Alfred looked back at him, a bit amused of the situation. Since when has Ludwig ever yelled? He would've been slightly afraid of the man standing in front of him, but he surprisingly just grinned.

"But if I hadn't knocked you into the alleys, you definitely would've been shot, and definitely not in the throat." He said, with a small smile.

He glared at him, infuriated. What was there to smile about any of this? "It's my duty as the host to keep you safe! You can't make reckless decisions when there are heavy consequences!"

"I just did it cuz I didn't want you to get hurt dude." He said back, looking around the corner. Ludwig opened his mouth to argue with him, but pausing. What?

"It's my duty as your friend and your brand new ally to keep you safe. Especially from gun-wielding maniacs."

Ludwig stared at him in disbelief. He squinted at him, still not understanding what Alfred was saying. Or rather, denying it. Is there some kind of other hidden message in his words?

"As weird as it is, I want to actually get to know you dude, and I know you're not some terrible monster." He laughed out. "You're just a shy guy, I guess, which is great cuz now you got someone like me! I just want to help you a bit."

Ludwig's mouth was agape, he really didn't know how to respond. And not to mention how he was just called shy. Was this seriously the same country that's in the lead to become our next world power? This bubbly, young man who was lending him the hand of friendship with no hesitation was the same person fighting against the USSR? _'Unbelievable.'_ He thought. How amusing the person standing in front of him was.

He let go of the tensions in his face with a sigh. He shouldn't overthink things anymore. Look were it got him. In a world where ferocious monsters fight and tear each other for power, when the single person with enough power, wealth, and influence to fix the world for the better does it, who was Ludwig to refuse their help?

"You truly are a very strange person." He mumbled out quietly, loud enough for Alfred to hear.

Alfred took a moment to process that, a surprised expression on his face, before fixing back onto a content smile. _'He did it. He won.'_ The feeling of accomplishment was much more satisfying than he thought it would be.

"Hey, hey, don't get all sappy on me now. We still got that guy to deal with." Alfred reminded him, pointing around the corner. "But lucky for us, I've got a plan." He said, drawing Ludwig's attention back onto him. Softly, he unclipped the gun from his coat and drew it out slowly, watching Ludwig's reaction to it. "Now I don't want you to get mad, but-"

"You had a gun with you this entire day? Even while we were walking through the streets?" He yelled, that angry look on his face again.

Alfred hushed him, quietly trying to calm him down. Never in a million years would he have seen himself in the position of shushing the strict german in front of him.

"I knew something like this was going to happen sooner or later, I just brought it as an extra precaution!" He said in a panic, as the german approached him.

Ludwig paused, confusion holding him back. "You.. knew?" He asked.

Alfred sighed, realizing how cryptic the words coming out of his mouth sounded. "Agh, I'll tell you about it later, but not right now."

Ludwig glared at him, straightening his composure. "Mmmh, alright."

"Okay okay." Alfred motioned him to come closer. "I've got a plan, but you're going to have to trust me on this."

Ludwig looked into his eyes, those electric blue orbs staring back at him. They held the wariness of danger in them, something unpredictable. But they were determined. He took a step closer to Alfred, letting him whisper the plan to him. Something about those eyes, made him feel like he was a trustable man. Maybe he really was suited for becoming our next world power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> 0.0 That took much longer than last time didn't it? I'm sorry about that y'all, my classes got me held back but I'm going to try to upload weekly, alright? You guys don't deserve a cliffhanger like that, but this chapter already got so long. ^~^ Alfred's got a bit of explaining after this chapter, let us hope we can actually fit that in the next chapter. Stay lassy, and much love.


	8. Surprise

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 3 1950_

_6:40 PM_

Alfred mumbled softly to Ludwig, expecting some hesitation from him about the plan. It really wasn't the safest option they could take but then again, it was the only option. Ludwig pulled away with an unsure expression on his face. "Are you sure about this Alfred?" He said in a uncertain tone.

"Trust me. I got your back in this." He said, his fingers tracing the barrel of his gun. His voice was confident, his eye contact level was strong. He really didn't seem like he was going to take a no for an answer.

Sounds of footsteps grew nearer and nearer the longer he stood there. Ludwig sighed, glancing away from him. "Alright, we'll do it your way." Alfred smiled victoriously as they headed up to the front, taking their position. Alfred trailed behind him, his hand locked onto the gun.

They waited there, as the sounds of the footsteps paused. A minute had passed, and Ludwig waited irritably there, getting more restless by the second. He was hoping they could get to the bar early today, since they could've made it to the Jazz band that was going to play there tonight. He didn't particularly enjoy the Big-Bands that were getting ever more popular every passing day, but he had to admit that the music they were producing weren't too bad. And his guest would've definitely enjoyed a little taste of German Swing. It all counted on him to get Alfred to enjoy this trip as much as possible. But now with this setback.. He muttered a small _'Tch'_ out. He just hope there was still some time he could redeem himself before the time ran out.

The sky had grown dark, night taking over the bright orange sunset. Light from nearby street lights flickered on, casting its bright lights on to the streets. It didn't sound like many people were out there anymore. Maybe they got the clue that there was a gunman here and quickly ran away. That was really the only positive thing that came out of this. Ludwig squinted at a dark shadow slowly started to reveal itself to them. Though it was hard to see, the dim lights were able to reach the alley ways, puppeteering a long shadow of a man danced closer to them. They took small steps, almost afraid to know of what was behind that corner.

Ludwig tightly clenched his right fist, as the shadow neared. _'How annoying it is to get caught in something like this.'_ And to have been nearly knocked for a couple of weeks out by a shot to the head would've been troublesome to explain to the hospitals here. He sighed quietly, waiting for the right moment.

He watched as the man took one final step, finally in arms reach. _'Now!'_

Quickly, Ludwig whipped out of the corner, grabbing the man's arms and lifting them above their head. They were caught by surprise, unable to react. The gun they held, dropped out of shock, as it bounced slightly away from them. His grip was strong, holding their arms tightly in place while they began to fight in a war of tug and pull. The man jumped up, kicking Ludwig's knees, hoping he would falter. But years of training didn't prepare him for nothing. In fact, the kicking was rather soft, not much force was placed in them. Not to mention how unbelievably thin their arms were for any international type of spy that was sent after them. He could accidentally snap their arms if they continued squirming around. For a moment, he questioned himself, _'Is this man trying to die? Or does he already know that his fate is doomed?'_

After all the trouble he caused them, especially when he had continued to pursue them, he could've used a lesson for messing with immortals. But Alfred wanted him stable enough for questions. He sighed, getting countless kicks in his stomach, to the point where they would actually start to hurt.

Nonetheless, he flipped the man over onto his chest deep into the alley, patting his hands together after doing his part. Now it was Alfred's move.

Alfred stood over the man, a cold look on his face and the gun twirling around in his right hand. Ludwig looked at him, studying that expression he had. By the looks of it, he didn't enjoy being held back by some inconvenience like this either. At least he knew when to get serious.

The man fell flat on his face, forgetting that there was a second person that was also in the alley. He was unable to realize that there were a pair of leather boots standing in front of him. As soon as they caught their breath, they panicked, quickly rushing to get back up, before feeling cold metal softly pressing onto their forehead. They froze, their head down, realizing what trap they had fallen into. There was no use in escaping. Unless they wanted to escape the old fashion way with a bullet through their head which was more than unlikely. Though their head was down, they finally looked in front of them to see those leather boots. An excited voice broke through their thoughts, sending waves of chills up their spine.

"Hey, hey, hey! Why are you leaving so soon? Don't you think after coming all the way here to greet us, you should at least give us a little hello?"

Alfred kneeled down, the gun still pressed firmly on the man's head. He cocked his head to the side as he felt the subtle, yet clear shaking of the gun caused by the man's shivering. There's no way Ivan would've sent a guy with no experience to hunt him. And if a KGB spy is shaking this badly with only a gun pressed to his face, that must mean he knows who's holding the gun to their head isn't the everyday normal man. Ivan must've sent him here on some sort of suicide mission, didn't he? Alfred clicked his tongue annoyed. To throw a human life away so easily, should he be so surprised? He thought Ivan had more integrity than that. He shifted his stance, leaning onto his right leg for support. Well, he might as well play with this guy for a bit and then hand him over to the police. He could probably get some good information while he's at it.

"Come on, my face is up here dude." He said, waving the gun upwards, tapping their head. Ludwig watched from the entrance corner with his hands buried in his pockets. His lip turned downwards, frowning at the sight in front of him. It was true that he thought it'd be better if Alfred had done the interrogating rather than him, but..

He glanced away from the scene, letting out a quiet sigh. For some reason, watching Alfred confront the man made him feel uncomfortable. The voice and gestures were just so playful like, you could almost forget that he was holding a gun. Then again, he was constantly tapping it onto the man's head, reminding him that he held the power or decision to kill him, if he felt like it. With all the smiles, and talk about friendship, Ludwig would've thought that Alfred would be much nicer to the man so he wouldn't feel too scared. He definitely is the type of person to do this too though. People have their dark sides, even seemingly pacifistic bundles of joy. He tapped his finger against his coat, thinking of something else to distract him for a moment. But the truth stood, to be in that man's position must really be terrifying.

The person's face stayed down, shivering much worse than before. _'This is taking way too long.'_ Alfred thought, looking down at the man. Though he had to admit that this little act of theirs was pretty good, it almost seems believable.He almost felt like applauding Ivan for finding this guy. But they could seriously use some better training. It really is a shame that Ivan just threw them away on a mission like this though. _'Poor thing probably wouldn't have made it out of here alive if he had tried to fire at us again.'_ He thought realistically.

_*Hic.._

Ludwig looked back at the man, burrowing his brows. Did he hear something? He looked at Alfred, who was wearing the same confused look as he did. They then looked at each other in unison. Were they imagining things?

_*Hic!_

There it was again, except it was much louder. They immediately looked down, and saw the man kneeling on the floor in front of them was.. Shaking? Like shaking as if he was in an earthquake. Small drops of tears splattered on the floor.

Alfred stared at this guy in disbelief. _'Is he seriously crying?'_ He wanted to praise this guy even more. He was just like those russian dolls, surprise after surprise. He wasn't really ready for this last surprise though.

" **Please sir, spare me.** " They mumbled quietly, their voice quivering. His pitch was extremely high for a guy in their early 30's or late 20's. Not to mention they weren't even speaking english or german, but rather russian.

Ludwig stared at the man the moment he spoke. It was a language he was very familiar with, although he had never taken much interest in learning much of it due to his resentment to a specific Russian man. But despite that, who was this? A Soviet man begging for his life in the West part of Berlin? What was someone like that doing here? Perhaps they were deflectors that were looking for a quick cash grab? If so, why were they the ones being robbed, why not a store?

Alfred tapped their head with the gun, visibly seeing them flinch. _'What?'_ He reeled back a bit, letting the person pull back their limbs in fear, holding them close to their chest. _'Why is their voice so squeaky? It's not just that either. Ludwig had no problem throwing him in here.'_ He thought quickly, staring more intensely at the man. _'It can't be..'_

Swiftly, he moved closer and removed the hat from the man's head. Their hair was roughed up inside the hat, there laying a ginger-auburn mess. They were trembling, slowly making eye contact with Alfred. He squinted at their face in disbelief. They had a small nose and bright large blue eyes that were staring back at him in immense fear. Those eyes definitely did not belong to one of a cold-hearted killer that's been in the business for years. They probably belonged to a 16 year old on the brink of despair.

"You're just a kid?" Alfred exclaimed, a disappointed tone in his voice. This wasn't the type of surprise he thought he was going to get..

His eyes darted back to his hand, the one with the gun still standing near to his head and then back at the person in front of him. Quickly, he dropped his hand down and stood back up in a hurry. The guilt of him holding a gun to their head seeped in, and not to mention that they were being chased down by a child with a gun. He wanted to crawl in a ditch and die of shame. _'If Ivan was here, watching them, he'd probably be laughing at him.'_ He thought automatically, clenching the gun tightly. Him and this boy were just making bigger fools out of him.

Ludwig stared at the two, his mind stuck on what Alfred said. So they were just being chased down by some little russian thug that was desperate enough to kill them? That was all this nonsense was about?

He huffed out a puff of air out of relief. His tense expression relaxed a bit, as he looked back up Alfred. It was clear by his stance and face, that he was much more shocked than he was. He probably wasn't expecting this type of twist in events. And after being so confident that they were being spied on, this was the last thing he was expecting really.

Ludwig took a look at his watch again, reading the time again. _'6:46'_ it said, the small antique hand making a soft ticking noise. They could probably still make it to the bar if they went to the police station and turned the perpetrator in now. That feeling of contentment had blossomed in his mind again. Alfred would probably have a laugh over this, try to get the kid to be a better person, help them out a bit, his actions were all just a bit too predictable. Well that was what Ludwig thought. He looked back up at Alfred, expecting him to be smiling, comforting the child, calling the local police, anything that was supposed to be obvious.

But when he looked back up and saw that startled look still on his face, those wide electric blue eyes focused onto the boy, something felt off.

Alfred took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Was Ivan just trying to screw with him? He seriously sent an inexperienced kid to try and kill him. He had definitely sent ones to spy on him, but kill? That was something really out of the blue. Not to mention that Ivan probably did tell them who they were after all. When you're laying at the mercy of two immortals with the skill and willpower to kill you where you stood, he'd imagine you'd be just as terrified to start crying for forgiveness. _'To tell a highly kept government secret to this kid, what was he thinking?'_

He bent down, laying a firm hand onto their shoulder. Quietly, he mustered up his thoughts, russian vocabulary that he hadn't used in a while. " **Alright little man,** " Alfred said back in russian with a loud voice, though his American accent was still visibly there. " **Say who sent you, and won't get hurt.** " He pulled out the gun again, only aiming it at the kid. He did feel really guilty about doing this, but there were times he needed to sacrifice his self-worth. At least he wasn't low enough to send a young guy with this little skill on a suicide mission.

Ludwig stared at them, shocked at what was happening. Questions were popping up, everything he was thinking about was thrown out of the window. Does he still think that the kid was a spy? Not to mention, threatening their life even after it was revealed that it was just some child looking for money? Ludwig's eyes honed in on them. There was something in him that wanted to make the impulsive move to stop Alfred, make him put the gun down and asked him what he thought he was doing.

But then, he'd only be interfering. He took a step back, furthering himself much more from them. He wasn't in the position to stop him, he had no power, money, or influence. Who was he to ask what the growing global superpower what he was doing when his opinion doesn't even hold an ounce of importance at the moment? To them, he was just the man who lost two World Wars and paid the heavy costs of being on the wrong side. He didn't really have a leg to stand on against Alfred. Irritated by the demeaning thoughts, he scratched his neck in an effort to distract himself. He had never wanted to smoke before for the past ten years, but it'd be really nice to have a cigarette right now.

The young man locked eye contact with Alfred who in turn stared just as intensely back. Though bold enough to look at him, he still didn't speak. It actually looked like he was biting down on his lips.

" **I'm an honest man. You have a life waiting for you, not worth throwing away here.** " Alfred spoke through his broken russian in a much kinder tone than before. He gave the kid a comforting smile, softly patting their shoulder.

They were hesitant, Alfred could see it. But he knew that his words held meaning to them. Slowly, they stuttered out, " **A general man named I-Ivan, sir.** "

Alfred let out a satisfied smile. _'I knew it, of course I did.'_ Ludwig caught the name as the kid managed to squeak it out. He knew what that name meant and who it belonged to. He just didn't understand the fact that Alfred knew that he sent the assassin and the fact that he sent the kid in the first place to kill them. It didn't make any sense..

Alfred sighed and got back up again, locking the gun onto his holster. He lent a hand to the kid, who pondered for a bit before taking it. " **Run, before they come.** " He whispered to them, pointing at the exit of the alley. They got the concept, dashing at full speed out of the area without saying much of a thank you. Alfred shrugged, and made his way to Ludwig who guarded the entrance.

"Sorry, did I keep you waiting man?" He said, clasping a hand onto his shoulder from behind.

"Mmm." Ludwig grunted back as he watched from the corner they came from, two emerging panicking police officers with handcuffs ready to capture the perpetrator.

"They finally came huh?" Alfred inquired, closing up his coat so the gun didn't show. He really didn't want to get in any legal trouble here, nor could he afford getting caught with a gun again. He learned how much a pain in the ass it was to get a steaming mouthful of rage at 4 in the morning from Mr. Marshall last time, and it was definitely not something he'd like to relive.

"They were much slower than before." Ludwig muttered, glaring at the officers running towards them. "I might need to drop by their station later on."

Alfred awkwardly laughed, really not expecting any remarks back. He shuddered at the menacing vibe Ludwig was putting off, it'd probably be best if he just stopped talking for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Okay, okay, I finally came up with a schedule. I can post every 2 weeks, which I hope is okay for you all. And remember how I said we might be able to fit in Alfred's little talk this chapter? Yeah well, that didn't really work out. But it will be next chapter, do not fret. I could post weekly every now and again so just watch out for those days, kay? Stay classy, and much love.


	9. Lying

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 3 1950_

_7:23 PM_

The night was a beautiful blanket of a swirling violet-blue with small specks of white scattered across the sky. Clouds streaks flowed lazily through the night, allowing the moon's glistening light to peek at them. The two walked down the quiet road, passing street lights after street lights. The streets and roads were empty and quiet, all they could hear was the clack of their shoes and the crickets in the background. Alfred looked at the other, studying his facial expression.

"Man, I'm starving. Got any place in mind where we could grab something to eat?" Alfred whined, throwing his arms back around his neck. He peeked nervously at Ludwig, watching for his reaction.

He wasn't lying, he actually was really hungry. But things got a bit awkward back there when he was talking to the soviet boy. Ludwig had become a bit more tense and strangely much more quieter than he was before if that was possible. It's just that Ludwig didn't answer any of his remarks with a full sentence after the ordeal, which was different than this afternoon.

Alfred clenched his jaw tightly as they walked on, seemingly to wherever the road led them. Maybe he took it a bit far? He probably shouldn't have raised the gun at the kid again after he started crying. He didn't want to hurt the child, he wasn't going to! He's not that bad of a person!

Alfred gulped, trying to reason it with himself. The thing was, he felt kind of mad seeing the kid. He made such a big fuss over them, and now that they turned out to be some dumb, young, crying ball of tears, Ivan got to have his little laugh on the joke and he got embarrassed because of it!

"Ja, we're heading there right now." Ludwig said, not in any special way. What did Alfred expect?

He sighed, looking back up at the night sky again. And yet, even if he tried to let his mind wander, it would always end up in the same location he had been trying to escape. He gritted his teeth and finally acknowledged it. _'Ivan, that son of a bitch.'_

To Ivan, this was all just a game to him. Toying with him, toying with his country, that sicko felt pleasure from doing that didn't he? And yet despite his resentment, there was nothing he could do about it. If he were to actually start to complain about it, he'd probably just look like some oversensitive brat. And Arthur always loves to remind him that he's now a global Superpower, someone that takes charge. _'Even more of a reason people can't know.'_ What would happen if they knew that someone out there had the ability to make his heart drop? That they hold a sense of power over him and there's nothing he can do about it. All he is allowed to do is shake it off, and continue to stride on.

 _'But for how long must you do this?'_ A voice whispered in his head. He has asked himself this question almost too frequently, too much for him to count. The icky feeling of despair started to drip into his mind. He has only been in this for five years. Five god damn years. Five years of torment, five years of pain, five years of this never-ending sinking depression, and he still hasn't reached the bottom of his tortures. There was still so much he has yet to go through, he knows this fact well. But exactly how much more? Even now, as he walked beside his friend, he could feel the burdens of paranoia dragging at his feet, choking him from saying anything. Ivan was always there, watching him, interfering with his life.

And even with that still happening, he's supposed to be strong. He has to fight back with a brave smile on his face. But the thing was, he couldn't. His endurance was weak. It was only five years, and he's already this tired? What a terrible excuse for a Global Superpower. If anyone else knew, they would laugh at him. How was he going to go into a full on fight against the Soviet Union if he can't even take the weaker punches? What a failure he had turned out to be.

He blinked tiredly at the sky. Thoughts move less faster in his mind than usual. Fatigue slowed them down, allowing him to hear those thoughts much clearer through his mind. Was this how he was going to live out the rest of his life? Who was he kidding, of course he was. He couldn't complain, couldn't fight back, this was the only way he could get stronger. But still despite that thought, the icky feeling of despair still lingered. Pep-talks couldn't help him in this type of situation, of course they couldn't. He was in too deep to be able to crawl back out anymore. False hope was overshadowed by the hole he had fallen into, and by every passing day, the hole only grew more and more impossible to crawl out of. He couldn't think of any way to get out.

"Alfred."

"Huh?" He muttered, snapping out of his immersive thoughts. He looked to the left of them, spotting Ludwig standing a bit behind him in front of a large bustling building fit snugly between two other large buildings. It was bright, light shining from the large window panes that were mantled on to the building. Inside, there were round tables covered in snow-white cloth while servers ran around the room with plates being held in one hand and the other being tucked away neatly behind their back. Alfred squinted at the building, shielding his eyes a bit with his hand. The lighting was just so intense, it felt like his eyes were burning just by looking at it.

"We've arrived." Ludwig said monotonously. "Hurry up, you said you were hungry right?" He turned around before motioning Alfred to follow along with him. He didn't hesitate to listen.

They entered the building, immediately being greeted by wait staff and a smiling lady standing at reception. She beckoned them to come closer as she picked up a clipboard and started to flip through the pages.

" **Hello! How may we help you today?** " She asked cheerfully. Although it was already nightfall, she seemed to have a lot of energy after a long day of greeting customers.

" **Ah yes, do you have the private room open tonight?** " Ludwig asked her. Alfred looked at him strangely, although the look was ignored.

" **Yes we do, would you please tell me the size of your party and when they will arrive?** "

" **It'll only be us tonight.** " Ludwig said, absentmindedly.

The lady paused for a moment, and looked back up at him and then to Alfred. He shook his head in confusion and just shrugged at her. It's not like he knows what Ludwig was planning either.

" **I'm sorry sir, but the minimum number of guests is at least 6 people. We can seat you farther away from the guests if that makes you more comfortable.** "

Ludwig rumbled out a deep sigh, causing the reception lady to flinch a bit. " **I rather not have any distractions in our business meeting. I'd very much appreciate it if you could please just give us an exception tonight.** "

She nodded slowly, and began to write on her clipboard. " **O-Of course sir, but you'll have to wait around 5 minutes for us to get everything prepared, will that be alright?** "

" **Yes, thank you.** " He gruffed, loosening his tie slightly tiredly.

Alfred softly tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't want to ask questions and just make the German more annoyed than he needed to be, but he really couldn't help but listen in on the conversation though he could only understand snippets of their german dialect while he was looking at the plants.

"Hey Ludwig, dude?" He said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Ludwig turned around to face him as waiters started to roll out a long dining table from a room with large golden doors behind him. He ignored the workers in the background, unlike Alfred who was staring at them. "Hm?"

"Uh why are we getting a meeting room here? We can always just sit away from the crowd like the lady said?" He inquired, pointing at the grand large stairs leading to the second floor.

Ludwig looked at where Alfred was pointing and furrowed his brows. He turned back and said, "You'll see." before turning around again, leaving the american there still standing with questions.

He opened his mouth to ask him again, but just shut it and face away from him. He thought about what Ludwig had offered, comparing the pros and the cons. True, it's nice to have the idea of just eating in a private room where no one was there, watching him but for some reason, the thought of loneliness was also haunting to him. He couldn't tell if that made him more paranoid of his surroundings then it did when he was in a crowd.

Suddenly, he gulped, feeling something barricading his throat. It was some invisible force, pushing down his ability to talk. It only daunted on him a couple seconds later that it was _fear_. Fear that no matter where he went, he was always under surveillance. Whether he was alone or in a crowd of his own people, someone was there watching him. His enemies, family, colleagues, all of them are watching every single move he made. There always was someone, always a man hiding in the shadows waiting to pounce on him if he messed up.

 _'No..'_ A voice whispered in his subconscious mind.

_'Not now. You can't mess up right now. Just go eat some food, and we can sleep on it till tomorrow.'_

He didn't need any of his annoying, intrusive thoughts interrupting his meals. That just made him hungry and depressed. For some reason, he brushed that feeling off a bit, dropping the whole panicking thing. It probably wasn't good for him not to acknowledge his problems, but after doing that for 5 years, he turned out fine.

The reception lady at the large private room looked over at them and waved them over.

Ludwig glanced at his watch before turning back to the american who was dozing off on the spot. "Come, they're finished."

"Huh? Oh yeah alright."

They made their way to the room, the reception lady nodding at them as they entered. Alfred looked around the room, the feeling of discomfort wavering around in his mind. The room was so large, not to mention, it had large windows that basically made it look like a showcase. Admittedly, the view was beautiful but that was beyond the point. In front of them was a small table with two plates and utensils and a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice, exactly centered in the room. As they continued to walk to the table, Alfred started to notice how much farther they were getting to the wall. He looked at the back of Ludwig's head, maybe sending him a telepathic message of confusion. This was way too much space for a private dinner, and he didn't even know they were going to talk business?

He groaned inwardly at the thought of hours upon hours of just business conversation. They actually went to a decent restaurant, and he got excited for nothing. He sighed, taking a seat across from Ludwig. Of course, this can't all just be about business right?

The smile on his face fell for a moment, trying to calculate what was going to happen in the next thirty minutes. He stared intensely at Ludwig, who in turn was browsing the menu. It was a bad thing to underestimate Ludwig, which was a good thing that he didn't. He was a thinker, someone who controlled the path the river flowed. Of course they all were like that, how else would they be able to survive if not? But Ludwig truly had an upper hand in this type of skill. He wasn't a careless planner, he was a schemer. And to have thought of a new plan like this in such a short amount of time. Alfred gazed at him, with a smile sprawled once more on his lips. _'How tactful he really is amazes me.'_

He would like to skip the chatter and get to the really interesting point, but just because Ludwig was having fun, changing the stream to his own whim, that doesn't mean he couldn't just play along. He didn't have much to lose anyways.

"So Ludwig," He started out, a confused expression still on his face. He knew what Ludwig was doing, the question was why the room had to be so god damn huge. "What's with you bringing me here? I get it if you want your privacy, but man this is overkill!"

"I have a couple of questions for you. I'd be grateful if you'd cooperate with me." He said, folding his menu and placing it down gently. He glared back up at Alfred, covering his mouth with his hands folded down on each other, his left eye glowing a scary dark cyan.

The American didn't phase whatsoever. If Ludwig was going to get serious for this, who was he to back down? Though he had to admit, his heart dropped when he saw that eye of his. That eyepatch only made him look 10x cooler and scarier.

"Yeah sure, what do you gotta ask?"

"It's about what happened in the alley."

"Go on?"

"How did you know the child was a Soviet spy?"

Alfred thought for a moment, staring at the large sparkling chandelier. He scoffed softly and just placed his hands in his pocket. "Easy dude. I could tell by the model of his gun was one created for-"

"That gun was a russian gun, yes, but it was definitely not KGB level. It's model was poorly made and you couldn't have been able to tell since I was the one that faced him while he was holding the gun. It was knocked out of his hands, to a place where you most definitely wouldn't be able to see it from your position." He interrupted.

Alfred looked at him, eyes widened, a part of him amazed. _'He was in this very room with someone so fast and bold, actually having this type of conversation. This was just too much fun.'_

"Well I mean I could've been just bluffing back there. Maybe I was pressuring them to admit they were KGB." He inquired, letting his sly smile show a bit.

Ludwig leaned back into his chair, thinking. He narrowed his eyes, holding a fierce expression. Alfred gulped, feeling chills run down his spine. He felt lucky for trying to befriend him, instead of pushing him around. With those arms of his, he looked like a bodybuilder, not hesitating to snap him in half if he felt like it.

"I'd like to believe that of all people, you would go easiest on a child despite them trying to kill us. You interrogated it to the point of tears, even I would've shown a bit more mercy."

Alfred scoffed lightly, turning his cheek. Of course Ludwig assumed he'd be nicer, they all do. It was merciful of him for not shooting the kid so he couldn't return what futile information he had on him to Ivan. Was that not enough?

"You also said something like, this was going to happen sooner or later, correct? What exactly did you mean by that?"

Time seemed to slow down after he said that. Alfred knew what trap he had fallen into, he didn't mind. This large room covered in windows, was supposed to give him the false sense of freedom, but it was all just to keep him at bay wasn't it. There was no escaping this without getting past Ludwig, one way or another he had to confront him. He smiled wickedly at the thought. "You really are a curious one aren't you?" He muttered quietly, loud enough for the other to hear. Ludwig cleared his throat steering away from what Alfred had just said. For such a young nation, he was actually smart for his age.

"Do you have an answer for my question?" Ludwig said, placing one of his arms on the table.

"Yeah yeah," Alfred sighed, waving his hand around. There was no use in beating around the bush anymore, then it'll get boring. _'But..'_ he thought mischievously, grinning back at Ludwig. _'I want to see how far he's willing to go.'_

"You got me 'Schmidt. I was just going based on the info that some spies were going to be sent out on me and I gave the kid a bit of a hard time because I knew Ivan was behind sending him. But let me ask you this," He said, giving him a soft smile.

"What exactly are you going to do, now that I told you this?" His eyes glowed a bright mysterious blue as he said this. Like a dog guarding his territory, he held the same energy.

"Hm?"

"You obviously wanted more information, but all that has to do with my private relationship with Ivan and I've already told you a very well-kept government secret. I think what I said is enough for today." He said off-handedly, rolling his neck around. He glanced at Ludwig, watching for his response. _'How far are you going to go?'_ From the pits of his bright cyan eye, there was something truly burning behind his eye as Alfred observed.

"I disagree." He seethed, glaring directly at Alfred, a dark scary aura emitting from him. "Today a gunman was set on the loose in my city, not including you. If this was your country, I wouldn't object. But this is my home. My citizens could've been injured or killed if we hadn't diffused the situation as quickly as we did."

Although the situation was scary, Alfred could admit that part, it was also so strangely entertaining. He couldn't help but smile, at what raw perseveration he was witnessing at the moment.

"It is not my business in what is going on with you and Ivan, but it is when it's potentially harming my citizens." Ludwig concluded, watching the American fold his arms in thought. After a while, he threw his hands behind his shoulders, once again giving off his carefree attitude.

"You make a good point, I'll give you that." He sighed loudly. He didn't want to fight against Ludwig, that'd just make him look even more paranoid. "I guess I'll tell you why it happened, but on one condition." He said, giving he German a toothy grin. "I want some meat and a lot of beer. I'm not going to say anything if I'm this sober."

Ludwig nodded with a small satisfied smile on his face and left the room to make the order, leaving Alfred alone. After a couple of seconds of the sound of background chatter quietly buzzing in his ear, he rested his head back onto the chair. Thoughts passed by him, warning him of what he just agreed to do, but he just ignored them. He felt like he was already in a hopeless position, what else could he do to make his life even more miserable? However, there was something that did worry him a bit.

He raised his hand up to the ceiling staring at its shape, lost in the drowning thoughts filling his mind. What he was about to say were things nobody else knew, not even his family. Perhaps it was maybe because at some point he started to consider them business partners rather than family. Telling someone he had never been close to definitely wasn't the right idea either. But it felt so much easier to tell someone he doesn't know either. The judgement wouldn't be so heavy. He frowned at that, twisting his hand in the air. It only took him a moment to come in term with realization. He shot forward in his seat, spotting the loophole in his little crisis.

 _'Even if Ludwig told my family or my friends, who the hell would believe him over me?'_ He scoffed in amusement. What he stated was true. No one would dare believe whatever Ludwig had to gossip over him. _'And Ludwig isn't much of a gossiping type.'_

Ludwig came through the door, surprising Alfred mid-thought, holding a small cart filled with food and beer. He rolled it towards their table, softly setting them down gently. And finally in the middle of the entire table, a bucket full of dripping wet beer and ice.

Alfred stared at it hungrily. Not waiting for Ludwig to hand him a bottle popper, he quickly grabbed one of his own and chugged it as soon as he got the cap off. Ludwig looked at him incredulously, but nevertheless, popped one open for himself as well. Alfred grinned at him cautiously taking a small sip of the drink and laughed out, "C'mon, drink a bit more dude! We won't get wasted, but we can definitely get a bit tipsy!"

Ludwig grunted in response. "No thank you. I'll need to get us a cab tonight." Alfred grumbled loudly and continued to drink the bottle, not taking time to savor the taste. His plan was to get drunk as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have any problem telling his story.

"Y'know Ludwig?" Alfred asked, staring off through the window. "I don't usually share stuff like this, so you better be using this information for good or something.." He mumbled off.

"Yes, yes, I assure you I won't be using them against you."

"Hahahah! That's good to hear!" He yelled, finishing the last drops of the bottle. He stared disappointedly at it, not feeling the drowsiness set in yet. Though that disappointment didn't last for very long. He grabbed another bottle from the bucket while Ludwig patiently waited for him to finish. But with the way things were looking, and Alfred's consistent drinking, he was slightly worried that he'd be too drunk to even talk. But one should never underestimate one's alcohol tolerance after years of tireless nights, drinking till the sun arose.

After taking a long drink from his second bottle, Alfred slammed it down and let out an exhale of relief. Ludwig stared at him watching for him to finally raise his head. When he didn't, he sighed quietly and began to talk.

"So Alfred, how about we start with why the assassin was sent for us?"

Alfred threw his head back in exhaustion, and groaned. "Why do you have to start with the hard questions man?" After a very long and dramatic sigh, he pushed himself back up and propped his arms on his legs, holding himself up. "Things just haven't been rolling smoothly with me and Ivan, that's it. Though what did you expect, it was bound to happen anyways.." He muttered.

"But is it enough to send someone to kill you?"

"Relax man, you know that no one can kill me or you. And besides, it was just a kid with a gun and a desire to meet his creator." He said absent mindedly.

"When I said I wanted a full explanation, I meant it Alfred." Ludwig growled, causing the American to pause in drinking down his third bottle. It was just a hunch, but he guessed that when Ludwig drank alcohol, he could get a bit ballsy. Or maybe because Ludwig thought semi-drunk Alfred was just a pushover.

"Maybe if you waited a bit, you'd be able to hear it Ludwig." He said, mocking his tone. Ludwig glared at him, before huffing and leaning back into his chair with his arms cross.

"My apologies, continue."

Alfred made a small _tch_ sound at Ludwig before turning back and finishing off his bottle. He looked back down, a tired look on his face and sighed again. 

"No, no, I'm sorry. You have a right to be upset, I just get a bit defensive about this topic."

Ludwig stared at him, taking in the atmosphere of the room. "It's alright, take your time then."

"Well yeah.." He grumbled, staring off into the window. "Things were never all smiles and rainbows when we tried to act like it, admittedly we did a good job at doing it. But it all went south around a year ago."

The thing with Alfred's statement was that they weren't really the full truth. He was honest when he said that it wasn't all that simple as a friendly relationship that excluded politics, but all that was a one-sided problem. Ivan never felt like that, it was all Alfred's perspective.

Ludwig seemed to notice that glossy eye appearance in Alfred's face as he stared off into the city. He thought for a moment, pinpointing what Alfred was talking about before realizing it. He gasped slightly and looked at Alfred in horror.

"Wait. You mean-"

"Yep." Alfred chuckled softly, giving him a kind smile. Though it was apparent in his expression that he was doing it for show. The haunting memory played like a roll of film in his mind, plaguing him with negative thoughts. There was so much he regretted that day.

"A year ago, I attacked Ivan in the middle of the G8 meeting room due to some incident that occurred before the fight." He sighed, rubbing his thumb on the beer label. It was such a pain to talk about it, especially when he wasn't drunk enough to laugh it off. "It was all my fault, really. I started the fight and it was dumb of me to do that in a professional building. I know I made a public apology and everything to Ivan, but I don't think he forgives me for leaving things the way they were." He was starting to sound like Arthur, oh jeez.

He took another bottle off the cart and popped it open. He didn't even think of looking at what Ludwig looked like right now. He just wanted to drink a bit more, enough to forget what had happened tonight and enough to forget what happened a year ago. It was so hard to make everything as subtle as he did. There was still a lot more behind that story, and the fact that his and Ivan's relationship wasn't platonic or at all professional.

"Alfred?" Ludwig asked, with an uncertain look on his face. Alfred turned his head around drowsily and nodded at him. "Is it okay if I asked what the incident was?"

He smiled at him half-heartedly and glanced off to the side. "Yeah, I don't think I could continue right now." Ludwig nodded understandingly and took a drink of his beer. He already pushed him to share enough, he shouldn't make him feel uncomfortable. "Cheers?" Alfred asked, tipping his bottle to the German. He hesitated before finally giving in and clanked his bottle with Alfred's.

"Cheers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Hello, this was a pretty long one huh? (that's what she said) but yeah, the oh so mysterious fight was brought up, don't forget its existence. I'll be back next next week and get ready for chapter 12, I think that's going to be the interesting chapter. Stay classy and much love.


	10. Admittance

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 3, 1950_

_9:40 PM_

They walked back up the stairs in that hollow house in silence, only hearing the sounds of their footsteps echo through the floorboards. The city outside was dark, not a single house or building was lit. But then again, it was pretty late.

Alfred stopped in front of his door exhausted and twisted the doorknob open. "Night man." He muttered, entering his room.

Ludwig grunted in response and shut the door behind him.

The American shrugged and did the same. Perhaps Ludwig just wasn't a night owl, that didn't really surprise him. He looked at his watch and read the time. _'9:43'_ His eyes widened at the time. It was around ten, and he was already this tired?

Though shocked, he didn't let the time phase him. Maybe it would help him get up early in the morning, so he wouldn't miss breakfast. It wasn't an unreasonable thought. He removed his hat, setting it on a cupboard next to his bed along with his glasses and placed his clothes somewhere in the closet. He changed into his pajamas, nestling into the covers. It was going to be a good day tomorrow.

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 4, 1950_

_3:30 AM_

_*Thump!_

Alfred awoke, startled by the noise. He instinctively sat upwards, feeling the coldness of the night pick at his fingertips and his messy hair. Quickly, he reached out for his glasses and placed them on, glancing at the clock hanging from the wall. Though it was still dark outside, he squinted at it, reading out _'3:30'_ He tore off his blankets, and rushed for the door handle, picking up his gun on the way out. His eyes were still barely open, groggy from the sudden awakening he had experienced. But he ignored all of that and slammed the door open.

Normally, people would consider this an over reaction, but to him this was only normal procedure. When he lived back in the states, he would sleep with a gun under his pillow, in case any of Ivan's goons thought of sneaking into his apartment. He was a heavy sleeper, and not once has he awoken to such a loud noise in the middle of the night. Something had to be different.

And soon as he opened the door, he saw light radiating from the living room downstairs and the strong smell of alcohol. He looked frantically around the house, spotting Ludwig's room that was on the other side of the stairs was left wide open, with no Ludwig in sight. He tilted his head slightly, a bit confused. The noise wasn't the sound of glass breaking, so it couldn't be burglars that accidentally broke some beer bottles. And not to mention, Ludwig wasn't in his room so he couldn't have been hurt. But there was still this sound coming from the living room. He placed his gun in his pocket, and rushed down the stairs, thoughts racing through his mind.

Though the lights were too bright for him to see clearly, his eyes widened at the sight before him as soon as they calibrated.

There, on the floor gasping for air and grasping at his heart in pain was Ludwig. His eyes were clenched tightly and his other hand was balled into a fist, shaking. He looked miserable, dark shadows underlining his eyes and his hair was a mess. Not to mention that he was still in his clothes from the evening before. The coffee table was littered with bottles of alcohol, some of them were starting to pile onto the floor. It absolutely reeked of beer.

Alfred didn't spare any time and quickly ran over to him, avoiding bottles on his way there. "Hey! Hey! Ludwig, are you alright?" He yelled, looking at the mess in front of them. He started to pat his back softly, unsure of what to do. "Answer me, are you okay?"

Slowly, Ludwig's trembling hand reached upwards and pointed to the counter island on the other side of the house. "Pills.." He grunted, almost inaudibly.

The American turned his head, spotting a small orange prescription bottle standing on the edge of the counter. He left Ludwig's side and grabbed the pills and frantically filled up a mug of water from the sink, bringing it to him.

Ludwig nodded at him, his eyes still barely open. He gratefully took the cup in his hands and swallowed to pills, calming his breath. "I'm sorry.. for the inconvenience.. I've caused.." He croaked.

"Can you tell me why you're drinking at three in the morning?" He turned his head towards Ludwig, who was still trying to breath. He sighed and turned away. "Take your time." He started to collect the bottles in a plastic bag. If he didn't know any better, he would just be a nanny. However..

Something was nagging at him, from the back of his mind. He felt as if this was familiar, like he saw this type of condition before. He furrowed his brows as he started to count the amount of beer bottles he was cleaning up. How the hell was he able to drink this much in one single night? And why didn't he invite him?

"Ah yes." He muttered. "All of this you mean." He motioned to the coffee table.

"Well what else would I be referencing." Alfred chuckled awkwardly, hearing the clash of bottles continuously sound as he collected even more of them.

He placed it down and turned back towards Ludwig, lending his hand. "Here, let me get you some water." He sighed, giving him a worried grin. But there was a crucial thing about Ludwig that he only then realized when he locked eyes with Ludwig. His mind was still trying to wake up and understand what was currently happening, he didn't even notice what was different. All he could do was stare, the smile on his face dropped and his eyes widened. The only functioning thought that he could process was repeating itself in his mind.

_'His fucking eyepatch is gone.'_

Through those tired, confused sockets, gazing right back at him were two distinctly different eyes. One a dark cyan and the other a bright maroon purple. He froze at the sight, feeling the hairs on his neck stand uprights and his stomach plummeting downwards all within a few seconds. That purple eye didn't help his situation, in the place where he wasn't prepared to see it. It was as dreadful as he had remembered it, as horrifying as his imagination could get. He blinked once, then blinked again. No matter how many times he blinked, the purple eye still stayed there, staring back at him. His hand trembled, his fingers retracted in shock.

"Oh my god." He yelled.

In a flash, he stumbled backwards, landing on the floor beneath him. That rush of fear flowed back in from the dams he had been so desperate to build. Panic was reinstated in his mind, the chains of terror keeping him from making any comprehending sentences.

"His eye. Y-You have his eye." He mustered, staring at Ludwig.

At first, he was confused, his drunken self trying to understand what Alfred was rambling. But then he realized it as well.

Hurriedly, he grabbed his eyepatch off of the table and quickly covered his right eye with it. "Calm down.. I can explain."

Alfred looked at him hesitantly, a petrified look still on his face. He looked downwards, the feeling of his heart spiraling into despair. Slowly, he placed a hand on his chest and began to breath in small, shaky patterns. "I need a moment.. Please excuse me." He muttered, getting up and leaving for the kitchen. A sick feeling churned in his stomach. It felt like he was about to throw up. He lurched over for a moment, pushing down the feeling of hurling on the ground before shakily walking to the bathroom again.

Ludwig sighed and looked at him, a guilty feeling draped on him. He didn't realize that the eye was that traumatic to people, especially not him. Slowly, he wrapped the string of his eyepatch around his eye, fixing it into place. He knew that Alfred had mentioned there being problems between him and Ivan, but not to this extent. He was basically crawling away in fear, only because he saw that eye. That made him rethink what he had said at dinner. Was it really as simple as Ivan and Alfred just having a petty war? Then why was he so scared of the eye?

He pulled out a small book from the couch that was titled, _How to talk to others_. He had been reading it ever since he found it in the bookshop, and it surprisingly had very well-made pointers inside. There was truly something deeper in the depths that Alfred hadn't yet told him. _'It must be the incident, the incident he had been refusing to talk about.'_ Although he was curious about it for curiosity's sake, the fact that Alfred showed that raw reaction to the sight of a connection to Ivan only showed more proof that their relationship ran deeper than simply workplace enemies.

"I'm sorry I screamed back there." A voice popped up. Ludwig looked upwards to see Alfred staring at him with his face wet from splashing it in the sink. "It was unexpected, I didn't think I'd see him here again." He said sheepishly, rubbing his neck with his hand awkwardly. He did his best to make it sound like a joke, but the shadows of his true expression still laid in his face.

"Him?" Ludwig asked.

Alfred widened his eyes, realizing his mistake before sighing again and rubbing his nose bridge. "It's nothing man, don't worry about it."

Ludwig gave him a skeptical look. He could only assume that when Alfred said 'Him', he was referring to Ivan. As if he and Ivan were connected. He huffed at the thought, _'What a ridiculous assumption.'_ Slowly, he got up, wincing as he started to limp away from the couch. His body always started to hurt after his breakdowns, especially his chest. It only made it harder for him to breath when it felt so heavy. Although his drowsiness made him feel a bit better.

"Hey, are you okay? Why are you limping?" He said, as Ludwig continued staggering to the kitchen.

"You're always so worried for other people." Ludwig muttered, dismissing Alfred's concerns. It's not like this was the first time this had happened to him before. "You seem to be so occupied with trivial things like emotions and relationships."

Alfred glared at him, questioning where this was going. "Hey, what do you mean by-"

"And yet, you don't seem to be caring for yourself." He said, reaching for the bottom cooler of his refrigerator. "I wonder why that is."

"Listen man, you don't have to stick your neck out for me. I'm doing fine."

"The more you keep insisting that to me, the more I wonder who hurt you so much to make you such a closed book." He interrupted, his voice shaking the house.

Alfred held his chin up, offended by his comment. "Excuse me? What would make you think that?"

Ludwig sighed, taking in a deep breath. He rolled up his sleeves and unlocked it. "I can recognize the moment a soldier's PTSD is provoked, and trust me when I say that yours wasn't too subtle to notice." Alfred frowned at the mention of that. "We all have our triggers, Alfred and it's not something to be bottled up." He said, carrying out a large plastic box filled with beer and placed it onto the counter, signaling a loud _thump_.

"I too have my difficult relationships, though mine are more explicit and obvious. It doesn't make all the easier to burden however." He opened up a kitchen drawer beneath him and pulled out a bottle opener and carried it along with the box of alcohol to the couch where Alfred was still standing, limping a lot less than he had been a minute earlier.

The American looked at him hesitantly. "Who do you have problems with then?"

Ludwig leaned forwards in his seat and grabbed one of the bottles, letting out a deep sigh. "It's Feliciano."

Alfred gasped slightly, taken aback. His eyes widened a bit, though he felt like he should've expected this outcome.

Ludwig let out a small audible _tsk_ but continued talking. "In my experience, I've found that the most effective way of relieving this stress is sharing that with someone. Though this will not benefit me in any way, I've understood how much it will benefit the person who needs to talk to a person they could trust." He ran his hands through his coarse hair, brushing away the separated strands left. "I've seemed to notice you liked to relieve your feelings through alcohol, perhaps as an easier way to slip into your mind which says a lot about you and your emotional baggage. Most people I've met tend to speak about their problems sober but I do not judge."

He finally opened a bottle, and tilted it to Alfred. "It is your decision whether you want to open up or not, I will not push you any more further than here. But I strongly recommend that you take up opportunities like these, before they disappear again."

Alfred watched the mist of the freshly opened bottle softly flow out like streams of tobacco smoke. He didn't know that drunk/hungover Ludwig was so talkative and an intellectual. Maybe this was why he was avoiding to drink so much at dinner. But he didn't know what to do right now, what choice to choose. His eyes were no longer stinging from the bright kitchen lights, he felt refreshed, he's gotten a full six hours of sleep which was so-so. There really was nothing holding him back and grabbing a bottle as well.

A part of him only thought that he was his own stabilizer, a majority in fact. For a long long time, he had thought that if he was going to make it in this world, he needed to stay paranoid. He would have to lock away insecurities and fears in a box and throw the key away. And where did that get him? A man with spiraling depression, anxiety, and alcoholism problems. He no longer had control over his life, and it was starting to kill him.

But now? Now he's being lent a hand, a small token of friendship. A rope thrown into the overwhelming hole he has fallen into, and they were trying to help him. Like Ludwig had said, these types of opportunities are rare. It wasn't every day a stoic german wall offered him a solution to his 5 -year long problem.

Slowly, he made strides towards the German, grabbing the bottle out of his hand. Warnings and voices were yelling at him loudly, asking what he was doing, if he knew what risks he was taking. He no longer cared to listen to them, he no longer knew what he was doing with his life. He did't know if what he was doing was right, all he knew was that it was risky leap to take especially when he couldn't see if he could make the jump. But doubt has clouded his vision for so long, every move he made he was so cautious with. Maybe it was time to jump without looking, there was nowhere else he could go.

He grinned widely and said, "You had me at alcohol."

He grunted loudly and remarked "I don't think drinking away your problems is wise but if it makes you comfortable, sure."

Alfred laughed awkwardly as he walked over to him. Were these the first steps of his little psychiatric evaluation? What happened to not judging? He looked at the bottle however, the sense of familiarity flowing in from those countless depressing nights. How whenever he arrived home, he instantly felt that sinking feeling drag at him and the only way he got rid of that was through alcohol. There was no other outlet until now.

He moved cautiously around the table, sitting a bit further from Ludwig. After all his hard work of keeping his personal problems in, here he was, drinking a beer with Ludwig at three in the morning doing therapy.

"I'll talk, but on one condition." Alfred said, swirling his bottle absent-mindlessly.

Ludwig looked at him puzzled as he took a small sip of his beer. "Go on?"

He smiled at him and said, "I want to hear your excuse first though."

The German paused from drinking and looked at him, somewhat bewildered. "Excuse me?"

"Why were you on the floor? What's with the.. Eye?" He said motioning at him.

"Oh." Ludwig looked at the ground, gathering his thoughts. It was complicated for him to describe it, particularly the problem being he didn't know how to express it.

"I just.. I had a bad dream." He said, pausing for a sip. "I must've passed out after drinking and I guess some memories resurfaced."

"What were those memories? Were they about Feli?" Alfred asked, leaning forward into the couch. Ludwig glanced away, almost in shame. The American frowned slightly and scooched closer to him, patting his back softly. "It's only sharing if we all do it, 'Schmidt. Take your time."

"Yes, yes, I know." He muttered. "And yes you're right, it was about Feliciano."

He allowed Ludwig to continue and attentively listened next to him.

"I tend to stress when I see him, just us all alone. It brings me back to my fonder memories with him, and my more regrettable ones as well, like what you saw back there." He said, circling the area they were in." I miss him, but I'm simultaneously afraid that he may leave me again." He said, moving onto his next bottle. "I doubt he wants to reconnect however. I don't blame him for doing that though." Ludwig once again took a drink of the beer, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Damn dude.." Alfred whispered, laying back into the couch. "You start falling over whenever you see Feli?"

Ludwig grunted, annoyed. "Odd way of putting it but yes. I don't understand why, but it makes me anxious seeing him," He pointed at the orange prescription bottle on the table. "Thus my medication to treat that problem."

Alfred placed a hand over his mouth, the gears in his mind turning. "Ludwig, this may be a weird time to ask you something, but can I?"

He glanced at him, confused and nodded.

"On the last day of the meeting at France's, were you maybe listening in on me and my family's conversation?"

Ludwig's eyes widened in shock, the feeling of his heart dropping. Alfred watched his expression closely, noticing the change in his face. He placed his hand onto his leg as the German looked away.

"So I'm correct, aren't I?" He murmured, setting his bottle down on the table. Ludwig must've seen Feliciano when he was listening in on their conversation, it was a pretty long hallway. And when he messed up, he fell over and started to hyperventilate. And when Alfred was about to catch him spying on Ludwig, Feliciano must've interrupted him. 

He smirked, at the realization almost to the point where he wanted to laugh. Despite Feli's constant innocent personality, even he knew what damage it would have done to Alfred's perspective of Ludwig if he caught up to him. Even when they haven't spoken in years, Feliciano still looked out for him. And honestly, it was smart to have stopped him before he found out it was Ludwig, he knew that anyone would stop plans just to say hello and greet him. Well played Feli, well played.

"I apologize, it wasn't my intention to listen in on you." Ludwig said, a heavy weight of guilt weighing down on him again. He didn't want to ruin his chance of having a friend. It was so lonely standing by himself. "I was passing your room briefly, until I heard someone yell my name. I would be lying if I said I didn't hear much, I just wanted to know what I was expecting from you."

"And did you get the information you were looking for?" Alfred asked, saying this almost so monotonously, that Ludwig couldn't figure whether he was upset or not.

He sighed, and leaned back onto the couch. "No, not at all. I ended up being more confused than before."

"And why was that?" Alfred asked, glancing at him. What ever came out of Ludwig's mouth would determine if all of Feli's work was for naught.

He took a deep sigh and laid back into the sofa. "Because I simply do not understand your thought process." He said, staring hopelessly at the ceiling fan turning lazily.

"Huh?"

"England and France must be very important to you, you certainly want to keep them happy and content. The best way of doing this is relating and agreeing with them." He muttered, rambling on. "They both make equally good points and have a right to be angry at me. And I agree with their reasoning. What I'm not able to comprehend is why you retaliated against them." Ludwig groaned, rubbing his nose bridge in confusion. "You and your family have every right to be upset, so why aren't you?"

Alfred sat there, still sipping on his bottle. He hadn't yet moved from it and it was starting to get warm in his hand. A small thin line ran across his mouth, his eyes looked like they were gazing through the swirling liquid he held in his hand.

"I'll admit, I never had the same views Arthur and Francis did." He said, a serious tone settling into his voice. Ludwig lifted his face from his hands and looked at him. "You were no longer a large threat, it wasn't like you could fight back right? You did a lot of terrible things, it's not like we could brush that off." Ludwig grimaced as he spoke.

"So why not hate me? What do you gain out of this friendship we've created then?" He asked impatiently.

Alfred looked at him, a heartbreaking sensation filling his heart. If he was being honest, getting Ludwig's ally-ship was futile. He was worth nothing in the eyes of the G8 and in the scale of power, he held none. It wasn't even worth coming here to befriend him since he was basically useless if he was to fight against Ivan. In fact, Ivan had a higher chance of getting Ludwig to his side because he was holding Gilbert captive. So what did he gain out of their friendship?

He gulped as his mind ran silent when he tried to come up with excuses. He really couldn't think of one good reason.

Softly, he sighed and spoke, "I couldn't tell you even if I tried. To be frank, you being my ally would be more harmful to my reputation than if I were not to have you as an ally at all." Ludwig looked at him thoughtfully, taking in every word he spoke. It was true after all.

"But I can tell that you've changed, I know you have." Alfred lifted himself from the couch, and walked over to Ludwig. "They don't want to believe it because they only see one direction. As much as my hatred burns for your crimes, I know that you were in a bad situation and I can't deny it but that doesn't forgive you for your actions." The German hung his head low, grimacing at the memories. All the terrible memories..

"But I have dignity, and I want to give you a second chance because I know you can be better." He stopped in front of Ludwig, smiling softly. "Gilbert told me a lot of your childhood stories back when he helped me in the revolution and from what I gathered, you're a really decent person. And I know you don't like thinking of him, but Feliciano also said you were a good person before I left for Berlin. I believe that you're still that decent guy, I trust their judgments of you." Ludwig froze at the mention of their names. "I know Gilbert's not exactly with us right now, but after my tension with Ivan blows over, I could ask him if you guys could meet." He lent out his hand, dangling it in front of Ludwig's face. "But I'll need you to cooperate with me a bit, it won't be anything bad or life-binding, I swear-"

Alfred was interrupted by a firm hand grabbing his, quickly pulling him into something like a bear hug. He choked for air, as he felt some of the bones in his spine pop. His head turned in bewilderment, spotting the German's head next to his. _'What?'_ His eyes widened, registering what had just occurred, the feeling of a large hug embracing him tightly as if they were hanging onto dear life. He opened his mouth to say something, before suddenly stopping. He chuckled softly with a smile on his face and hugged back. It would completely ruin the moment if he was to talk. Best to keep it silent for now, Ludwig also had a reputation to uphold as serious. Who would've known that the German drunk would also be so emotional?

A tense voice rumbled close to him, "Can you tell them that I'm doing fine? You understand how worrisome they could be."

"Yeah yeah, tell me about it." Alfred laughed, patting his back jokingly.

Ludwig pulled away, giving the American a single firm handshake before sitting down again, a flustered look on his face appearing. He lifted his bottle to his face and drank it all, avoiding eye contact with the other. Alfred softly snickered and sat back down along with him. He could only guess how he got that cherry red expression, but he can give him the benefit of the doubt and just blame it on the alcohol. He used to be a shy kid too, before he met Arthur that is.

"Did Feliciano say anything else about me?" Ludwig muttered, his head still facing the other way.

Alfred smirked at him while he avoided eye contact. He smiled and grabbed his bottle from the table and drank from it, recalling the conversation. "I don't know if it's my position to say this, but all I can confirm for you is that he does want to reconnect with you again." Ludwig looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to say more. "I guess I'll leave what he meant to your imagination." He laughed, a wide smile on his face.

_'Who would've known this would be so much fun?'_

Ludwig grunted with an annoyed tone that quickly shut the American up. He took a deep swig of alcohol and allowed that happy expression to fade away.

"I guess it's my turn to fulfill my part of the bargain, huh?" Alfred muttered, the smile slowly disappearing from his face. He finished off the single bottle, reaching out for a second. Germany made a good point about his alcoholic problems, it made him wonder what the pain felt like when he didn't have anything to cushion it.

Ludwig gave him an uncertain look, watching the expression on the American's face change so quickly. "Like I've said before, you don't have to if you're not comfortable-" He was starting to regret pushing Alfred to share back there, he shouldn't have drank so much.

"No, no, no, it's fine." He insisted, hunching over to grab the bottle opener. "After watching you talk about your problems and your speech back there, I realized that I can't keep running away from my problems and avoiding them whenever they come up."

The German hesitated to speak again before sighing, "No, I suppose not."

Alfred leaned back into the couch, feeling himself sink into the soft pillows. Strangely, they were very comforting. "Well then, I guess I have to give you a bit of context before I tell you what the incident was."

Confused, Ludwig tilted his head sideways. "What would the context be then?"

"Ivan and I.. We were in a relationship before the incident." He mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe he should've had a bit more drinks before saying that.

"Really?" Ludwig blurted out loudly expecting this to be one of Alfred's jokes. But when he looked at his face, he realized that he was telling the truth. He couldn't pinpoint why, but knowing that information disturbed him. They were complete opposites, personality and politically. But they did have one thing in common though, and that was their power. That was most uncomfortable part of the relationship.

"I didn't reply to your relationship with Feli by gawking at you, this isn't that big of a deal!" He yelled, waving his left hand up and down.

 _'But isn't it though?'_ Ludwig thought, squinting at the flustered man in front of him. He coughed softly and resumed his serious expression. "My apologies, I was just a bit surprised."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Alfred huffed. "But you could assume that the incident was what caused me to end things with Ivan." He continued, staring distantly off into the ceiling. "I guess it all started on that morning.."

_W_ _est Berlin, East Germany_

_October 4, 1950_

_3:50 AM_

_*fzzzzzzz Click.. *fzzzzzzz Click.. *fzzzzzzz Click.._

The sound of a camera capturing photos was the only sound that could be heard within this large, barren room. No lights were turned on, which only made the contrast of lights in the photo better. In front of a small, darkened window stood a trembling young man with fuzzy auburn hair that covered his bright blue eyes. He aimed the camera through the window once more and pressed the button, getting a much clearer shot of the two men in the living room.

_*fzzzzzzz Click.._

He sighed, feeling a reluctant pain dragging at his feet. Slowly, he walked towards a table he had set up and hung his most recent photo on a line of string to dry. It depicted the two men sitting on the couch, drinking alcohol with a small timestamp on the left hand corner. 

He didn't know why he was doing this, all he was doing was just following orders. The general wanted pictures of anything suspicious of them, he was only to spy on them now. To do this to the man that had spared him earlier, it felt a bit wrong. If he was caught a second time by them, he could actually die. But he needed the money, there was no other way. This task was strange, yes, but he didn't question what that general's intentions were though he did suspect it was to get dirt on this important American figure. All he could hold against the American was that he was held at gun-point by him, but he was still alive. A pang of guilt hit his heart, but what was there that he could do about it? He had to obey these orders, he had to.

 _'Yes..'_ He thought, suppressing his other doubtful comments. He was doing this to strengthen the Soviet Union, He was fighting for his country, eliminating the opponents for his country's sake.

Filled with a bit more assertion then before, he returned to the windowsill and continued to take photos from his hotel room as the night dragged on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Ayyy this was earlier right? We finally hit the 10 chapter mark and that only made me realize how much I had in store for this wasn't just going to be a short story, so you'll really have to lock in that seat belt of yours. Also, super sorry for leaving you on a cliff hanger ^~^;, you'll learn what this 'Incident' was that got our protagonist so shaken up in the next chapter. So pocket this in your library and leave a star if you actually like this. Stay jazzy and much love.


	11. Illusion

_Moscow, Russia_

_December 14th 1949_

_2:27 PM_

The air was always so cold here, even colder than the states. He shivered, recalling that wicked cold breeze chasing him into the building. But then again, what was he to expect? Still, it would've been nicer if he packed fluffier clothing or even a foot warmer. He knew it was a bad idea to come to Europe unprepared, especially here of all places but he had been so hung back by documents and paperwork that he forgot. It was such good luck he had that the meeting place had air conditioning.

Alfred tucked his leather suitcase next to him as he stood in front of the riggedy mirror in the men's bathroom. He stared uncomfortably at the weird greenish black grime between the floor and wall tiles. Of course the maintenance here wasn't quite 5-star but it was decent enough for Russia in his opinion. Although he really disliked the weird smell that floated around in the air. It made him want to gag a bit. He shook his head a bit and focused back on his stained reflection. His bright vivid eyes stared back at him as he tried to study for any flaws in his appearance. Apparently, appearances were everything now to Mr. Marshall. He said to leave a good impression on everyone today, and if all went well, he would buy the young American a bag of coffee beans from Colombia. Of course, Alfred could easily buy those beans himself, but it was much more fun when he had the General do his bidding. He wickedly smiled at the thought, wondering if he could push the general to buy him chocolate as well.

Slowly, his body slumped forward, leaning into the mirror. His smile dropped from his face, a miserably tired look replacing it. How was he going to give a good impression if he was so exhausted? Complaints about safety measures on parks had kept him up all night, he would have to really dry up his economy to support all of this. That means he'll have to increase taxes and..

His head wobbled back, letting out an exasperated sigh and stared into the plain white ceiling. Normally he'd be happy to see Ivan again, it was a given. And although he hated to admit it, he had looked forward to seeing Ivan in all these past meetings before, it was one of the things that motivated him to be so hyper all the time. The fact that their relationship was taboo only made it more exciting. And besides, he truly did like him, there were times that he was sweet yet had the same amount of intensity to clash against him. But things were feeling off this past year. There were weird red flags he would constantly see when he talked with him, but he'd just ignore it. But no matter how patient he was, they never stopped showing up. If anything, they were getting increasingly more irritating. Like sometimes ignoring him, but always clinging to him. Never letting him talk to the baltic group, and knowing things about him that he shouldn't be able to.

He pulled his back upwards, looking at his reflection in the mirror again. Where there once was a smile was now a scowl. He took a step back in shock, the nasty look fading away. Maybe he was just over reacting. Arthur used to say he had a knack for doing that. But then again, Arthur himself over reacted a lot too. Quickly, he neatened his tie and turned away from the sink, discarding his uncertain thoughts. He didn't need to wonder over this, right now his only mission was to impress and woo the other nations. Because him and Ivan were going to keep it cool and showed that they weren't enemies in front of everyone, it already gave him a head start. He just needed to keep his streak.

Alfred walked out of the bathroom, a large smile plastered on his face. It would be bad if he was seen without one, who knows what that would do to his reputation? Immediately, the sound of chatter filled his ear as he walked closer to the banquet. Unlike the restrooms, the halls and interior of this meeting spot wasn't as bad. There were these thick large royal red curtains that hung from every window, and everything including the wall and ceiling was a sparkling golden. Even the floors were covered with a matching red carpet. A slight twitch of his left eye occurred as he tried to look past the shiny golden flair the room was covered in. Softly, he let out a _tch_ as he approached the group of people loudly entering the meeting room they were using. Ivan had no money to afford all of this. And while he and everyone else here dined on delicacies, people groveled on the ground trying to make ends meet. _'Egotistic asshole.'_ He thought, quietly to himself.

They both agreed, not to bring politics into their relationship but he didn't know how much more longer he could just overlook this. There was just something in his gut telling him, what he was doing was bad. Being associated with him was bad. _He_ was bad. Biting down his tongue while Ivan's people suffered because Ivan was just that self-centered, what the hell was he doing? Was he really that infatuated with that guy to throw away his morals? Usually, this was the moment where he'd just think of his smiling appearance, let the doubt just fall away. But that didn't happen, not this time.

He cringed a bit, not before realizing his face had turned into a frown. He grumbled, diverging from his direction to the meeting room and quickly filled up a cup of coffee at the drink station. His emotions were a weak spot to him, they always were. Ivan always thought that of him, like it was a flaw. Though he didn't feel like he had to change that fact. Unlike him, he was a sympathetic person who offered that sympathy to anyone who needed it.

"Ugh.." He muttered to himself, chugging down the cup.

Now he was mentally badmouthing his partner behind his back. Good grief.. He really was messed up.

He held the cup to his mouth, chugging the bitter brown liquid in large gulps. He needed to get himself together, he was phasing out. A little bit of caffeine would do the trick. Holding the cup above his lips, shaking for any remaining drops, he needed all that he could get. A strong bolt of energy surged through him when he placed the cup down. Hopefully he wouldn't have to replenish in a while.

Alfred walked through the doors, immediately being spotted by Arthur and Matthew. They stood off to the side and were facing each other like they were chatting before noticing him. Arthur had that strict look on his face, like an instructor who didn't know how to take a joke. But then again, he always looked like that when facing Alfred. Because of his industrial success and new-found power over Europe, Arthur started to take more of an interest in teaching him how to properly run an 'empire' Although he never liked looking to Arthur for his help, he had to admit that his stories of foreign bargaining were actually starting to get quite useful. Though he would admit he felt guilty relying on him for these types of things.

"Alfred, finally you're here." Arthur said, making his way over to him with Matthew following along. He held a dark wooden cane with an embedded silver metal ring on it, leaning on it to walk ever so often. Yet no matter how much he fell out of his walking pattern, he always seemed to make it look elegant and smooth. Well that, and like an old man. The closer they got to him, the louder the clack of the cane would get.

The American wore a large grin on his face and opened his arms. "Hey Iggy! It's been such a long time since I've seen you buddy!"

Arthur dodged the hug, scoffing a bit as Alfred whined softly. "Oh don't be ridiculous, it has only been six months."

"Exactly! I haven't seen you in six months! Don't you think I deserve a hug?" Alfred said lightheartedly, holding his arms open still.

The Englishman gave him a wry face that lasted a couple of moments before sighing and rolled his eyes in defeat. Alfred grin grew larger, as he scooped up the more frailer person and gave them a tight hug. "Gahk! G-Git, I can't breath!"

"Ahahah, sorry about that buddy." He apologized, setting the man down.

"Good lord, you've only grown more brash since I've seen you. Where the hell did your manners go?"

"Hey, I said I was sorry!"

"Have you already forgotten about my injuries?" Arthur yelled, waving his cane at Alfred and using his other hand to lean on a chair.

Alfred laughed loudly, avoiding the attack radius of the cane. Though he admits, he should've been more gentler with Arthur. The aftermath of the second World War left everyone in Europe and Asia with immense pain. The north American brothers were not excused from the consequences of the war either, but they weren't as ruined as the others. Because the country's lands in Europe were actually destroyed, it took much longer for them to heal, even slower than an average human being. It was such a pain to watch them fall in and out of recovery rooms, thank god mostly all of them were healed. Arthur was the only one left, but he was doing much better than he was last year. All he had was a limp in his left right leg, doctors predicted that he would be better in around 3 months.

Matthew chuckled at the sight of the two. "It's good to see you Alfred. Arthur was just telling me about how worried he was for you just now." He said meekly, placing his hands in his pockets.

Arthur reeled his head, an embarrassed and baffled expression on his face. "L-Lies! What exactly are you going off on my boy?"

"Aww you are?" Alfred cooed, the two brothers teasing the red-faced man.

"Quiet! Both of you!" He yelled, hushing the both of them. "Anyways, you need to go and greet the host Alfred!" He covered his mouth with his gloved hand, hiding his rosy red embarrassment. "I know you two are on opposite sides of the political world but-"

"What?" He said sarcastically, in an amusing tone. "Don't worry about it, me and Ivan agreed on keeping political life out of our friendship. He respects my ideals and I respect his." Alfred said, patting Arthur on the back comfortingly.

He looked at him, a surprised yet delighted reaction. "Well then, that's good to hear. Thank god I don't have to tell you how to maintain professional relationships between you and your enemy."

"Yeah, yeah I've really got this under control."

Arthur stood there dumb-founded, giving him an odd stare. "Really?" he said hesitantly.

"You don't have to baby me through this, I've got this." He stood there, an expectant expression on his face. It wouldn't be hard to greet him, especially since they were so close.

Arthur still seemed unconvinced, but reluctantly said, "Very well then. I suppose these are still your roads to take." He huffed a bit, looking the American up and down disappointedly. "Straighten your suit young man, and fold your handkerchief properly!" Quickly, he fixed his clothes, while he loudly complained about being treated like a child. After a moment, he took a couple of steps back, a satisfied look on his face. "There. All better. Good luck America." He turned away, waving farewell along with Matthew.

Alfred sighed in relief, grabbing a note from his suitcase and quickly scribbling something onto it while no one was looking. There was another thing that he looked forward to when coming to Russia other than Ivan. Because of how things were formed and set in stone, he didn't see Toris very often. This meeting wasn't quite technically G8, it was more of an international meeting. That meant countries from all over the world were visiting, hence why Mr. Marshall was so adamant on first appearances. That also meant that Toris would be coming and he could barely contain his excitement.

He walked to the front of the large meeting table where most of Eastern Europe stood, glancing around a bit. There were just so many people, he could barely see through the crowd. And the bright lights weren't doing him any good either, dammit he just wanted to talk to his friend. It didn't take long till he realized that the baltic group was standing on the other side of the room, strangely Toris still wasn't there. The meeting was going to start soon, he didn't have many options left to choose from.

Quickly, he walked over to the quiet group, letting his presence be known with a loud opening. "Hey guys! It's been a while since I've seen you all huh?" He widened his smile and walk towards them with open arms.

They flinched at him, the timid expression of dread taking over their faces before quickly disappearing. Although it lasted long enough for Alfred to notice, definitely long enough to cause him suspicion.

"Hello Mr. Alfred." Eduard said meekly. The Estonian and the others looked uncomfortable, just standing there with him. A part of him almost felt hurt, but then again they didn't talk oftenly so he shouldn't be right?

"I don't mean to bother you guys, but do you know where Toris is?" He asked awkwardly.

"He went to the restroom, he hasn't been feeling well for a while." Latvia piped up loudly, earning a glare from the other.

Alfred shook his head in confusement. "No, I just went to the restroom and I didn't see him."

Both of them flinched simultaneously, that dreadful look reappearing on them.

"O-Oh" he stammered softly. "Maybe I heard him wrong."

Alfred stared at them, an annoyment of their constant stuttering and secrecy growing on him. What the hell were they going off about? "Listen guys-" He started, raising his hand calmly to tell them that he needed some information now until a voice interrupted him.

"Privyet gentlemen, what are you all talking about?"

Alfred turned his head, feeling time slow down just a bit to admire him in his smile. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't instinctively smile in return. It's been a long time since he's physically seen Ivan. Of course, they found their ways of communicating like using phones or telegrams but it never really was quite the same. But then he wouldn't be made fun of if he smiled to hear his voice. An actual, genuine smile when he was having a stressful day, it felt so nice to be comforted and talked. Hearing him drop in small compliments in his sentences so casually made his heart swell immensely. 

That feeling just made him push aside all of his blatant flaws. Was it really so bad to have a happy relationship? He was willing to settle for this, just anything to make him happy to wake up in the morning. He didn't want to give this up, he couldn't.

And if anyone had information on Toris, it had to be him.

"Ivan!" He said pleasingly, unable to hide his joy. He reached out his hand and continued, "It's a pleasure seeing you again!"

"Ahahah." Ivan chuckled, a large grin appearing on him. "Please, please, the pleasure is all mine."

They brimmed with happiness as the other two began to cower away. Most everyone's eyes were on them and the handshake that was occurring between them. Not to mention the sincere smile they gave each other. Alfred seemed to notice how attentive the rom got when it came to his relationship with Ivan.

Normally this would be good, since their display of a peaceful relationship was now in front of all of the countries, but time has ran out, and he still didn't have any information on where Toris was. Although he was finally here, seeing Ivan in such a long time. He felt a lot more dejected than he had anticipated by the fact that Toris still wasn't here. And since he rarely ever saw him,

"We should get to our seats soon representative Alfred, I heard you had something important to share with us."

"Hmm? Oh yeah." He said, giving one last firm shake before removing his hand. "I look forward to this meeting Ivan." He said, a serious yet cheerful tone settling into his voice.

Ivan nodded to him, leading him to the front of the table, where most of the other G8 were sitting at. Out of everyone, they captured their attention the most. "I hope we could carry this conversation later on." He hinted, giving him a sly look.

Alfred smirked a bit, holding back numerous amounts of inappropriate jokes. "I think that might be sooner than you realize."

A thoughtful look formed on his face, still containing that smile. Though he didn't push for answers any further, it was fun to interpret things on his own. Alfred left him there, dazzled as he walked down to where his plaque was, that warm vibrant aura leaving with him. Ivan clenched his chest tightly, hearing the sound of blood pumping through his heart pounding loudly against his rib. He sat down at his seat, discreetly folding open a small piece of paper in his lap.

'Meet me at meeting room 4c later. We have a bit of catching up to do :)'

He smiled broadly, scaring the people around him. What could possibly make that man show such a weird expression?

The American made his way to his seat avoiding all the weird stares he was getting. Although this was what he was aiming for, the stares were just so off putting. He sat next to his brother and Arthur, also receiving surprised looks from them. He lifted his suitcase off the ground, unpacking his material and pencils for a moment, before finally snapping. Slowly, he let out a low grumble, trying his best to hold back his disgruntlement.

"What is it?" He said, still neatening his papers.

Arthur looked shocked and a bit taken aback. He seemed hesitant to continue, but he always was a bold fellow. "I know you said your relationship with Ivan was stable, but I never thought it'd be that stable." He muttered.

Silently, he cursed in his mind, furrowing his eyebrows even further. He should've dialed it down more, shouldn't have smiled so much. "Yeah, we're buddies." Alfred said, giving him an enlightening smile.

Arthur still seemed suspicious of them but looked away, a pitiful expression settling in. _'The poor boy..'_ His thought murmured into his ears, a sinking feeling resonating in his heart. Friendships with rivalry never stay perfect between countries. Sooner or later, they will fall apart. He knew this fact very well, it's just a shame that history that is not learnt will repeat itself.

As the room quieted down, the sound of a creak came from the door, immediately catching Alfred's attention. His eyes bolted across the table, catching Toris meekly walking in. A smile quickly spread across his face, he almost stood up from his seat. But then he noticed something about him, a worrisome expression settling in as the man walked to his seat. He had large, dark eyebags and the face of death itself. His might was slightly open, his eyes dull and grey. Alfred cringed at the sight of him, the Baltic group wasn't lying about him. But even then, he knew that Toris would be happy to see him. They were friends after all, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter wasn't as good. Oh well, maybe I'll edit it or something who knows. This section will be pretty long, a lot of unpacking to do. I hope you guys enjoy it, I'll do better next time but I got a bit of classes and homework to do. Stay classy and much love.


	12. Questions

_Moscow, Russia_

_December 14th 1949_

_4:00 PM_

"This meeting will be taking a 45 minute break, please head to the common area to get refreshments." Ivan concluded, waiting for everyone else to move before doing so himself. No one spoke as they got up, hurriedly leaving for the door. Ivan didn't mind the silence. If anything, he actually preferred it. People were always so noisy anyways..

He glanced at the note Alfred had passed him once again, a smile growing on his face. _'He must've been so hurried to write this letter, look at how messy the smile is..'_ He held it tightly to his heart, hearing the rumbling sounds of his heart pumping through his ribs. These types of thoughts were as innocent to him as it got. They were so unnatural to him, he only did what his heart told him to do. Pressing it to his chest was the closest it could get his heart, it felt so right to him. He beamed, and placed it back into his pocket after his emotions cooled down.

Since nobody paid much attention to him, he only focused his attention onto Alfred who was placing some of his papers back into an orderly stack. He smiled at the sight of him, feeling that vivid, warm sensation flow through his soul again. It truly has been such a long time since he's seen him, yet he hadn't changed a bit. His eyes were as bright as a cloudless sky in the summer, that youthful budding charisma radiating off of him. He almost had to hold himself back from placing his head over his, the people in the meeting room just wouldn't budge.

His arm extended outwards, moving to tap his shoulder, happiness flowing through his mind. However, Alfred didn't seem to notice the gesture, also moving towards the door in a hurry along with the other people. For a moment, Ivan stood there in confusion, his arm still in the air. What happened to talking to each other? Perhaps, he meant by going there separately as to not draw attention to them? He exhaled softly, trying his best to let go of his frustration. That also worked, and was a smart move to make since he was the centre of everyone's attention now, but he couldn't help but feel unease. He wanted to greet him, every second was being wasted here if not with him. Ivan walked along calmly, keeping his prim cut smile on his face.

And for Alfred? Going to the meeting spot wasn't really his top priority at the moment. In fact, he had forgotten about it completely. During the two long hours he had spent in that meeting room, his worry for Toris had only increased. His skin was as pale as snow, his eyes were a grey hazy color, his mouth was opened like a dead fish. The entire time he sat there, it looked like he was exhausted, tired of being there. Alfred knew this feeling well, but also knew how to hide it. But never to this extent. He looked around the crowd, twisting his neck like an owl. There were just too many damn people, he couldn't see where they were. As much as he wanted to talk to Ivan, he knew that could be held back for a day or two. His time here in Russia was short, and even shorter with Toris.

Finally, through the crowd of bustling people, he saw the trio sitting on the bench of both of the members he had talked to before comforting Toris. He clenched his teeth and made his way through the crowd, only getting more and more antsy. Ivan kept a keen eye on Alfred, and where he was headed. His smile faltered a bit and his eyes thinned. Simultaneously, they weaved through the crowd, heading towards the benches where Toris sat there looking like his soul had left him.

"Hey!" Alfred yelled loudly, waving his hand from above the crowd. "Dude, over here!"

Toris looked up, startled, and spotted the American jumping up and down from the people like an excited puppy. Alfred locked eyes with him and smiled broadly, waiting for a smile back. But the smile never came. Toris didn't look happy or glad to see him. The moment he saw him, his face dropped, The expression of fear drawn all over his expression. The others held that same expression as well, looking around in a panicked state. Alfred's joyful attitude started to fade as soon as he saw Toris's face. He felt some uncertainty holding him back, a bit of his mind warning him from approaching his friend. _'Was it because he never talked to him? That wasn't his fault, Ivan said he was always unavailable!'_ That face made him frown a little but nevertheless, he still kept his head high up and pushed through the crowd. Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of bed?

"Toris, are you okay? You look terrible, no offense." He said, getting a clear look of him. Calling his look terrible was kind a better word would've been more like horrendous.

Toris slowly got up with the help of the baltic group, wincing as he did. "Yes, Mr. America, I'll just head back to my room for now." He muttered quickly. If he had spoken more with a North American accent, he could've mistaken him as Matthew. His every single movement looked like a pain to carry out to him, it made Alfred look at him in utter disbelief.

"Since when the hell did you ever call me 'Mr. America'? C'mon man, we're the bestest buddies!" He said jokingly, slightly offended. "I'll walk you back, we can finally catch up. It's been so long since we've talked!" Alfred cheerfully stuck his arm out, offering it to Toris. Before he could say anything more, someone interrupted again.

"Thank you Alfred, but I'm afraid that won't be necessary." Ivan said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't visible, but there was this ominous feeling of rage surrounding him. However he kept a smile on, softly inching Alfred closer to him. "I'm sure Toris here just needs a little rest for today." He shot a look at Toris, giving him a menacing glare. He froze up, immediately nodding and walking away. Ivan looked back at Alfred, trying to sully that disappointed demeanor. "And didn't you want to discuss something in private with me?" He said sweetly.

The American gave him a hard stare as he realized that Toris had already left, his figure limping down the hall. That uncertain feeling was there again, laying in the depths of his stomach. Time was running out, he needed to choose quickly. After a moment, he took a deep breath and turned back to Ivan, removing his hand. It was kinda weird that Ivan kept it on him for so long.

"I'm sure that we can always talk about that later, doing it during a meeting probably isn't the most appropriate choice anyways." He said, flashing him a grin before running after Toris. Ivan glared at the disappearing figures, hatred emitting from his surrounding area. The two remaining baltic members glanced at him, their heads hanging low and trembling in fear. They screwed up.

Alfred ran, keeping an eye on him. There was something in his soul, burning in a deep passion. It wasn't romantic, but yet he was so desperate to catch up to him. Something felt off, why would he react to him like this after all these years? Did he do something wrong?

"Toris!" He yelled. Whatever it was, he was sure he could clear it up, no problem there. His blood pumped faster throughout his body, growing ever more concerned. The man in front of him had also started to run, despite his injuries he had shown back there. Was he faking it, trying to get out of meeting with him? Alfred incredulously widened his eyes in a feeling of betrayal before focusing back onto Toris's fading body even more. This only motivated him to run faster. Now he wasn't upset. He just felt pissed.

He knew that if someone was injured, he should give them space. But why was he being openly avoided, after not meeting in so long? Chasing him down like this, trying to catch up to him while he runs away from him like in fear, felt so disheartening.

"Toris!" He yelled again, placing more assertion into his voice. He needed some form of explanation at least.

The Lithuanian never slowed his pace, he never once flinched at the sound of his strained voice. He never even looked back to look at him. Alfred felt an arrow go through his chest as he ran, feeling the pain seep in. The more they ran, the more distraught and hopeless he felt. He was so excited to finally meet him again, he even planned out a whole list of things he wanted to talk about. The pounding sound of Toris running across the marble floor echoed through his head, stomach churning around.

Finally, he stopped at one of the hotel doors, quickly unlocking and opening it wide open. He glanced back, seeing the American catching up and looked back at the doorknob, violently trying to jerk the key out. In the moment they locked eyes, Alfred realized that he actually was scared. Though it didn't last very long, he could see the bright glimmer of desperation to get away.

Alfred quickly ran, shoving his foot through the opening before Toris could close it completely. "Toris, what's the matter?" He said, forcing his hand in as he slammed his body into the door.

"Please, don't make this harder than it already is Mr. America!" Toris said, struggling to hold back the minimal strength Alfred was pushing with.

"Just.. let me in!" He yelled, finally forcing the door open and flinging the man back in his burst of strength.

Controlling his emotions had always been a problem to him, many people including Ivan and his family told him that. But even yet, he never lingered on the flaw too much. He felt that his over abundance of sympathy was a good trait. After all, he was supposed to be the hero here right? Even Arthur dismissed his thoughts about it, telling him he was being too childish. He never did get what he meant by saying that, but a part of him remembered that all of the sudden. Was he maybe forcing his emotions onto Toris too much?

The question disappeared as soon as it came, he couldn't contemplate his actions when they were already carried through. He burst through the door, that being the last thought on his mind. Something about this made him feel queasy, like he was going to regret ever chasing him. Maybe he should've listened to that instinct a bit more.

A loud noise sounded across the hotel room. _*Bam!_ And a shout of pain followed after. "Agh!"

Alfred stepped in, looked over to his side, seeing Toris writhe on the floor in pain. His eyes were tightly clenched, the wailing cry of agony coming from his mouth. The betrayed look on Alfred's face faded, a more worried expression taking over.

Guilt came crashing in like a tsunami in his heart. "Holy shit, Toris, I'm so sorry!" He yelled, panicking, rushing to his side. The Lithuanian's brown locks of hair overshadowed his face, probably hiding a horrifying expression. "I didn't mean to push so hard!" His groans of pain continued, breathing heavily.

He patted Toris on his back instinctively, intending to carry the weakened man up before realizing that he placed his hand in something wet. He patted his back once more, placing it in a different area. His hand still felt wet, as if he had dunked into something. Stopping for a moment, he raised his hand back up in horror and felt his heart drop.

No matter how many times he has seen it, whether it be his, his colleagues, or his enemy's, it never was an easy sight to see. Especially when there was an ever growing pool of it in front of you. A crimson red liquid dripped from his shaking hand, coating it in it's shiny bloody lacquer. His heart froze, leaving his mind to go blank as it dripped into his sleeve. He turned back to Toris who was still groaning in pain and shivering on the ground as he realized how cold the room was. Did the air conditioning break?

His mind rewired as that thought passed him, realizing the blood still visibly there on his hand. "You're bleeding!" He yelled, flipping him over to see a large dark spot growing out of his coat. "Why the hell are you bleeding?" His heart beated faster and faster, his fight or flight mechanism turning on. Toris still laid silent in his arms, unable to speak.

A part of him snapped out from his shocked phase and quickly picked him up, moving from the blood stained carpet. Gently, he placed him onto the couch and removed his thin coat and shirt as fast as he could. His eyes grimaced at the sight of more blood, the reminder of his immortality being almost forgotten. There was a pinched feeling in his stomach, like his heart was being twisted over and over again as he took off his shirt, revealing his back. He took a step back, stomach lurching over as if he was going to throw up.

It truly was a gruesome sight, something that made him want to shield his eyes. Although they had healing capabilities far more capable than any normal human being, Toris seemed to have lost that ability. Yet somehow, he still existed, hadn't died from the blood loss either. And from the state of his back, no normal person would've survived. Alfred was wondering why the blood wasn't stopping, and now he knew why.

Covering his back, were large scars, going from one side to another. There was an attempt to stop it, using bandages but they were old, and yellowed like they have been used multiple times. There were fresh ones, going in all different types of directions, cutting deep in his body. They were thick and differently textured, some of them looked like they were caused by a whip and others like it was a sword. The shiny red liquid flowed from the injuries, soaking into the couch.

Alfred held in his stomach, as he watched before him, the injuries slowly trying to repair themselves. It must've been a day since he got these, at best. How did he even get these? Where the hell were the fresh bandages? "Don't roll over, I'm getting a first aid kit." He said, running into the bathroom and opening the cupboards. Toris didn't say a thing. He only stared off into the wall, that greyness in his eyes no longer holding that spirit he had before.

The American walked out of the bathroom, holding a roll of gauze in his hand and some rubbing alcohol in another. "Okay dude, I'll help you with the bandaging. Just need you to sit-"

"That won't be necessary Fedya." Someone said behind him, placing a hand onto his shoulder. Toris's eyes widened as Alfred turned back to see him, unable to see his friend's reaction.

"Ivan?" He said, questioningly as he stepped away in shock. "What do you mean, Toris can barely walk." He attempted to take another step forward, but Ivan had a much stronger hold on him.

"Do not worry, he will be fine." He said, tossing some vial of yellow liquid towards him. "Let's continue our conversation elsewhere, da?" His grip tightened on him, causing Alfred to wince a bit. "Come." He beckoned.

Alfred looked back at Toris, watching him gently grab the vial from the floor. He looked upwards at him and gave him a small smile. "Please, do not keep him waiting, I can bandage myself."

He was very unwilling to leave, seeing the blood still dripping from his back. Leaving him only felt wrong. But Ivan was waiting.

"I'll come back and check up on you." He said unsurely. And just like that, he turned away and walked beside Ivan towards the door.

The two of them walked silently through the Hotel, none of them uttering a word as they walked towards meeting room C4. It was farther from the conference room and also wasn't wiretapped. At least Alfred didn't think it was. Normally he would be talking chipperly to Ivan, exuding his normal behavior around people. But not this time. His expression was solemn, eyes were absent minded, and his mouth was clenched. Though he didn't seem like it, his anger was spilling over, filling his mind with aggravating thoughts. Yet, he still kept a still face. God forbid anyone knowing what he was feeling, all the profanities he was screaming to himself.

He didn't know what yellow vial was, and he wanted to know why Ivan pulled him away. Why Toris looked like that in the first place, why he ran away. Questions were piling over themselves, anger pumping through his veins, Most importantly, he wanted to know why Ivan was so reluctant in letting them talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Well that brings the end of Chapter 12. Sorry if this wasn't what you were anticipating for, it's not what I was either. I was supposed to move on to the present and have some interesting scene, but I just did this so I'm very sorry. But yeah, toris is hurt, and we don't know why. I don't feel this was as good, and it wasn't as long. There might be two more of this cutscene, I apologize. But I swear, the story gets real damn interesting after this. Stay jazzy and much love.


	13. Disgust

_Moscow, Russia_

_December 14th 1949_

_4:21 PM_

Ivan shut the door softly, the sound of the voices in the common room muffling out. The lights weren't turned on, it would be bad if someone caught them here alone. The room was barely lit, a strange ominous feeling swirling around the empty loft. All that Alfred could feel standing in that cold dim room was the rage inside him that kept his body warm. He couldn't pinpoint where that rage was meant for. Was he angry at Toris for hiding his injuries, or was he angry at himself for not finding out any sooner? His eyes thinned, eyebrows furrowing as his breath paused. Or was he mad at the fact Ivan kept him in the dark? The sound of the wind whooshed harshly against the lone window of the room, snow collecting onto the ledge. He turnt to it, as the noise of Ivan locking the doors jingled in the background. All he could see when he looked from it was a mysterious endless blanket of white, fading into a dark grey over the mountain tops, signs of a bad snowstorm drifting towards them. How much has Ivan been hiding him?

"Ahah." Ivan giggled quietly. He walked up from behind the American, wrapping his arms around his waist. "How have you been my dear." He bumbled happily, resting his head on top of his.

Alfred shook, startled from his touch. "Oh. I've been doing okay." He muttered. Gently, he removed his hands off of him, causing the other to frown. "Are we not going to talk about what just happened?". He walked forward a bit more, turned, and sat himself on top of the long wooden table. Glaring at Ivan, he folded his arms in defiance, facing away from the window. His eyes glowed a bitter cyan, illuminating from his face. He didn't seem like he was in the mood to mess around.

Thunder rumbled from behind them, large circular clouds rolling towards them from behind the glass window. The faint light of lightning brightened up the room, fading as soon as it came. Ivan shifted his stance, seeing the amount of ferocity hiding behind Alfred's eyes. He knew that he couldn't escape this one with small talk and whispering to him sweet little nothings. Alfred was going to fall so easily, he just had to give him a push. _'Very well'_ he thought to himself. _'Two can play at that game.'_

"There is no need to worry, he will be. I assure you." Ivan smiled, taking a step closer to him.

"He obviously wasn't, what the hell was on his fu-" Alfred yelled, only pausing a bit after realizing he was about to cuss. He sighed and continued calmly. "I mean, his back." Ivan glared at him, the thought of him being yelled at was unthinkable. "And that yellow stuff.. What was that yellow stuff that you threw at him?"

Ivan's menacing look disappeared as soon as he mentioned the vial containing the yellow liquid. He smiled coyly, looking off to the side and chuckled. "I don't know if I should tell you, it was going to be an anniversary present."

Alfred looked up at him, questioningly. "Anniversary?" That was going to be in about three months, what takes three months in advance to plan?

A giggle escaped the Russian's mouth. "I suppose there's no use hiding now."

The eyebrows on Alfred's head furrowed in uneasiness. "Hiding what?"

Ivan took a step closer, placing his hands onto Alfred's elbows, his shaggy white hair covering his glowing purple eyes. A smile tugged at his lips, sadistically unraveling in front of him like a banner. "I found a way where we can finally be together." He whispered, holding the smaller nation in his arms tightly.

A struck of confusement hit Alfred's face. There was something about that twisted grin on his face that didn't feel right, it didn't look as innocent as it would usually. The way he looked down at him in joy, excitedly waiting for his expression to mirror his. _'Something isn't right.'_ He pushed the Russian back a bit, meeting his eye. In a worried tone, he said "What do you mean by that?"

"We have been preparing a serum that could speed up the process of healing for nations, though there are some side effects." Ivan explained happily, pulling out another yellow vial. "Of course, we have another serum that decreases a nation's health, unfortunately not enough to kill them-" He continued, pulling out a vial containing some clear liquid. It rolled around in his hands delicately, like he was a cat playing with its toy. "-but enough to stop their immune system from functioning." Slowly, his eyes drew back up, meeting the American's widened pupils. "Isn't it amazing?"

Lightning crashed down again, bringing light to the room. Alfred stared back at him, a sick feeling filling his gut. "Wait.. How do you know these symptoms of the vial?" He asked, mind flashing back to the gruesome image of Toris's back attempting to stitch itself back together. A sudden pang of pain shot through his head, making his stomach even queasier than before. _'You know how.'_ A voice whispered into his ears, the pain being almost too harsh to comprehend. They were too deep for any human to create, but not clean enough for it to be anything else. There was only one person who could do that sort of damage. His eyes scrunched up in disgust as he tried to process this information.

Ivan peered down at him, noticing the change of expression in the American's face. He smiled once again and mused, "It seems like you already know."

A mixture of pain, anger, and bewilderment brewed inside of Alfred, he wasn't sure which one he was to lead with. He was absolutely mortified, the fact he was standing in front of someone who did that to his friend made him want to punch him in the face. His hand clenched into a fist, shaking with rage and he stared into those warped innocent eyes. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated in knocking their lights out. But even still.. His hand lowered, along with his head the feeling of those emotions swaying in him like an ocean in a violent storm. There was something holding him back, an emotion far more stronger than any amount of pain, anger, bewilderment placed together.

As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he knew that he was scared of what would happen next.

"Why?" He choked, his voice sounding much softer than before. Ivan smiled widely at the display in front of him.

"Don't you understand Fedya?" He beamed, clasping his hands around his. "With the new discovery, I can finally claim this world as mine! Even with our combined power, they'll all just fall to our feet like dominos. And then, then we wouldn't have to hide."

There were times Alfred questioned his relationship with Ivan. Where he would feel some distance between him and his spouse. He always just assumed it was their beliefs, but now he only just realized it was much more than that. Like Ivan stood on a pedestal, the limelight focused on him while he just stood faceless, indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. Although he was getting a bit of fame, it would only take so long until the popularity would be extinguished and people would move on. He glanced back up at the Russian's face, seeing the guiltless expression looking down at him. Ivan seemed to have also known that Alfred would only be acknowledged as a small moment in history, and seemed to be using it to his advantage. 

The words of bad omens from the President repeated in Alfred's mind. _'_ _This is no longer war Jones. This is a game of chess, where your board is the world and your pawns are your followers. If you want to win this game and trust me you will, then you can no longer be the child you were before this. You've now entered reality and as soon as the recovery plan is launched, it'll only be a matter of time for either one of our countries to fall, do you understand?'_ At the time, he only brushed it off as a warning, to keep his head high. But they knew, they all did that something was going to go sour between the two. It was only a matter of time.

Alfred pushed Ivan off of him suddenly, realizing what he was hinting at. He was at a loss of words, the idea of even doing something like that shook him to his very core.

"Are you shocked? Isn't it such a wonderful idea?" Ivan asked, walking back to him. He gave an unrelenting aura, looking for a positive reaction. He wasn't even phased by the push. There was this psychotic, desperate look in his eyes, begging for acceptance.

The sounds of feet pounding against mud-filled trenches, the whistle of bombs soaring through the air and the explosion following after echoed into Alfred's mind as he grasped tightly onto his arms. Dying gasps of his fallen soldiers whispered their final wishes into his ear, death and the metallic smell of blood filling his nostrils. A prickly sensation of cold soggy boots reattached themselves onto him as he realized how cold the room really was, drowning in the memories. Worst of all, the image of his friends all stuck in hospital beds resurfaced in his mind. He remembered how pale and blue their bodies got, every single time they were shot, how much effort they all put in surviving.

He didn't want to see them all go through that again.

"No.. That's absolutely horrifying." He muttered under his breath, still shivering at the memory.

Ivan softly let out a _tch_ before sighing. "It may seem hard to do, but it really isn't when you get used to it." He glanced at him and continued in a disappointed tone. "Though I suppose you still are quite new when it comes to this."

Alfred glared at him, feelings of malicious intent swirling in his mind. "How could you just do that to Toris? What makes you think that I'd be willing to do that to my family?" He mumbled, voice getting increasingly louder. Usually, he was a very vocal person, able to say whatever he thought. But now, he realized how at a loss of words he was. The idea, the concept was unbelievable,

Ivan's ruby purple eyes glinted brightly as another stroke of lightning lit up the room, the sound swirling in with the crowd's chatter outside. "Why do you care?" He asked, getting closer to him. "He belongs to me now, you shouldn't be looking into things like this." The words seethed out of his mouth, like a snake hissing at its prey. Alfred froze, clenching his arm tighter.

"I know deep down inside of you, this is what you want. All you have to do is follow my plan and they'll be under us like dirt in no time." He persisted. Alfred looked away, a bit of fear lingering in his expression.

Ivan looked at him, waiting for a response, but there was nothing. After waiting for a couple more minutes, he sighed and turned for the door, muttering, "I should've expected this from you, of all people."

Alfred's eyes shot up, watching the man reaching for the door, a new flame lit inside him. "What do you mean by that?"

"I think you already know what I mean by that." Ivan responded, shooting him a look that made Alfred take a couple steps back. He looked down at his watch and back up at him, the smile deprived from his face. "You're too soft. If you want to survive in this world, you need raw power. _'_ "

Before he could respond, Ivan shut the door with a silencing _bam_ , the clicking of his boots echoing down the hallway. Alfred stood there, shuddering inside the icy cold room and the suggestion of being an accomplice of world domination prancing in his mind. Slowly, his trembling hand hovered over his mouth, his sight going a bit blurry as his irises fell in and out of focus. He slammed his other hand onto a table to balance himself as the image of Toris's back reappeared. The pain, and agony he cried out in while he squirmed on the floor like a dying animal. Those dull, colorless eyes that he used to look at Alfred, assuring him he was okay reminded him of his dying soldiers. Soldiers that had family, friends, loved ones, all waiting for them while they sacrificed their lives for people they didn't even know. 670,000 people, wiped away just like that from his country. He wasn't even the one who got the worst of it, and yet he still remembered the slow trickling drain of his soul during the war. All that pain Toris had suffered back there in the hotel room, would double if he was placed into war again.

Another thunderous roar rained from the sky, shaking the American soul. His hand moved to his stomach, the other clamping over his mouth. _'God, the thought of it makes me feel so sick.'_ He lurched over, a nauseous wave rushing over him. The ground was swirling beneath him, a numbness settling into his arms. Quickly, he dashed out the door, and ran into the restroom, hurling into a toilet as soon as he spotted an empty stall.

He continued, the sounds of the multiple warfronts he had been forced to visit folding over each other in his ears as he continued to puke. He couldn't handle it, all the moving and the constant guarantee of someone's life ending he had to endure. The widows and broken families that roamed the graves, unable to continue on without their loved ones. The spiraling despair the world would fall into as another war broke out. Was it just him who didn't want it?

After a while, he stopped. His dizzy head laying between his arms, thin streams of tears that streaked his sickened face. Causing wars, killing millions, taking over the world? He couldn't have that on his conscience, it was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do. If he didn't put a stop to Ivan, then the experimentation would only continue. Ivan was a perfectionist, he always was. If he was to find the correct formula that would be the key to instant regeneration..

_'All of humanity would be doomed.'_

Slowly, he got up, wiping the tears from his face and flushing the toilet. He walked towards the sink, washing his hand and looked back up at the mirror. His smile cracked in amusement, realizing this was the same place he stood at just over four hours ago.

Four hours ago, he was so excited to meet Ivan and brimming with happiness. Now he was more or less the same, just with a slightly different approach. His eyes looked up into the mirror, that stained version of himself looking right back at him. He had to do something about this, but he wasn't too sure if he could how he would approach it. He turned away from the mirror, a fist clenched tightly in his left hand. All he knew was that he was pissed as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! I mean I did say there was going to be a third part, but I swear it's the last part alright? I'm not dragging it out, I just wrote way more than I thought I would but I also don't want to cut it out because then it'll be crappy. But at least you got this chapter a week early yeah? I don't lose motivation that easily! Stay classy and much love.


	14. Disappointment

_Moscow, Russia_

_December 14th 1949_

_4:21 PM_

The noise of happy chattering resurfaced as he walked out of the restroom, bright lights shining in his eyes as he marched out. There were still the fully stocked snack tables, people talking in their respective groups, a light mood that surrounded the room. The atmosphere had not changed around him, but he cared for none of that. There was this uncontrollable shaking he held inside his soul though it was anything but fear now. His posture was straight, composed, and though he always seemed like that around his fellow colleagues, there was something different about it this time. He actually looked serious for once.

His eyes were set forward, looking directly into the meeting room where Ivan stood, standing there silently as he looked on at his guests with that wide innocent smile on his face. The more he looked at his face, the angrier he got. How could he just not have any outer reaction to what just happened? Where was that nasty glare he gave Alfred back inside meeting room c-4? His expression scrunched up a bit, a menacing aura surrounding him as his feet dug into the soft rug with every prolonging step he took. He walked up to him, standing inconspicuously near him.

"Ivan." He said besides him, getting the Russian's attention almost instantaneously. "We need to talk. Now." He no longer sounded upbeat or cheerful, his face was unfriendly, very dispassionate towards him.

Ivan was currently rethinking all the jabs he made at him back in the living room. Perhaps he underestimated the American's willingness to follow him into war.

"Mmm, da!" He responded back, giving him a small smile. Alfred ignored it, letting out a sigh as he looked away and headed to an empty spot near the wall. Ivan stared at him in disbelief, the stabbing of what felt like an icicle piercing his heart. _'Why didn't he smile back?'_ His smile turned into an offended frown as Alfred walked away from him. Was he seriously that upset? "It wasn't that big of a deal. Even though his legs felt heavy from this small rejection, he followed him silently, glaring at the back of his head.

They stopped at the corner as the people around them didn't seem to notice them at all. Alfred looked around them still, moving closer to the wall even more. Their relationship was the only thing that could topple his perfect social life. He even contemplated hiding behind one of the large thick curtains. But there seemed to really be no use for that.

After looking around them once more, Alfred directed his attention back to Ivan who was still wearing his bright smile. "Listen. We need to talk about your.. anniversary present." He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Never did he ever think he would have a conversation like this with his partner. Or well, secret partner.

"Ah.. Is that so?" Ivan replied. His eyes fazed a moment, a look passing over his face.

"Yes. I'm not doing that, there's no way in hell I'm doing that." He spat out coldly. His eyes wandered across the room as he said that, settling on Toris. It seemed like he had recovered a bit, he was laughing a bit with the other Baltic members. But there was still that distant feeling around him, his skin was still pale as snow, signs of death surrounding him.

Ivan noticed his faraway glance, the pity swirling in his baby blue eyes as they softened at the sight of him. He scoffed, folding his arms as his sight to, grew cold and hardened onto Alfred.

"What does he mean to you?" He asked, malice dripping from his tongue as he spoke. He could feel a mood change in the air around them.

"Excuse me?" Alfred said, looking back at him. "Who is 'he'?" He actually seemed genuinely confused. Never, had he saw Ivan look at him with such bitterness. It almost made him stumble back in utter shock.

"Why are you so concerned with Toris? What does he mean to you?" He questioned, his voice getting louder as he loomed over the young nation.

The American narrowed his eyes, looking at Ivan almost irritated. "He's a fellow nation, of course I'm worried about his well-being."

He scoffed again, a psychotic glint glowing in his eye. "Is that all why you're doing this? Only to help a fellow nation, really? You truly don't expect me to believe that do you?"

Alfred glared at him, anger filling his words. "Well maybe I wouldn't be so damn concerned if you didn't fucking torture him, now would I?" He barked. "I come here, excited to see my friend, only for me to find out that he's half dead because you want to start a war. Do you realize what kind of sociopath would do something like that?" His patience was steadily draining, what did Ivan not understand about 'no?'

Ivan sighed, looking to the side with a defiant look on his face. "You just don't understand."

"I don't understand? Seriously? I know what you did to him, I saw his scars. Is it so hard to understand that I don't want to see anyone else end up like that?"

His smile dropped. "Did you already forget?" Ivan whispered, his eyes wide, but not in shock. They were hypnotizing, yet terrifying to look at.

"Forget what?"

Ivan grabbed him by the suit, tugging him close enough for him to overshadow him. "Like I said, Toris now belongs to me. He is my property, and you can't do much with that now can you?"

Alfred let out a small _*tch_ as he was drawn closer. "You may act tough in front of them all, but I know that you can't do anything about this." Ivan continued. Alfred stared at him, hearing the sharp words crush his soul, cringing as he continued. "You may have weapons and such, but the difference is that I have brutality as well as everyone else here." He paused, thoughtfully and continued. "Everyone else but you it seems however."

The American's head hung low, mouth clenched tightly, fists shaking uncontrollably. His mind was starting to get numb as he could feel his blood pressure rising in unbridling rage. With every passing moment he stayed silent, the more rapid his chest rose, unable to pace his breath. He did feel hurt, that was a given. But he didn't want to continue arguing with him. What they had was nice, it wasn't something he wanted to lose.

Ivan's eyes studied the young man standing before him, unmoving as he still kept hold of his navy suit like a doll. A wicked smile cracked into his face, widening piece by piece like a window about to shatter in euphoria. "I know, of all people, you wouldn't object. You're lucky I love you so much." He cooed, planting a soft kiss on his head, releasing his coat and turning around.

Out of all the things Ivan had said to him in the last hour or so, that was the one that really made him snap out of his frozen frame.

_"You're lucky I love you so much."_

Hah! Lucky? How was that supposed to be lucky? They stood on the same damn level, what did Ivan have that he was supposed to be grateful for? Both of them were the perfect opposites, that was the whole point of their rivalry. Was he supposed to be 'lucky' that Ivan didn't get angry at him?

"Hey Ivan." Alfred yelled, head still hanging low stopping him right in his tracks.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

Alfred walked up to him, gathering the attention of everyone else. His mind was blank, maybe because of the realization that Ivan had been looking down at him, he always has been. A heavy feeling weighed down his chest, like bags filled with gravel and sand, his throat was clenching up.

Ivan was wrong, there was something he could do about this, how he could make the board flip. Never had he considered it an option but what Ivan said made it one. There was a reluctance dragging him back, but that only made him walk faster. Was he really going to get away with this? After how lenient he had been on Ivan about Toris, this is what he gets? His eyes looked directly into his, and he could see that smug grin on his face that he always wore, like it was taunting him for being so weak, so hesitant to go against him. Well who the hell told him that? He stopped in front and muttered his words soft enough for Ivan to hear.

"He may belong to you, but he's still my friend." Unnoticed by Ivan, his hand was winded up, his face was red from rage. "And I'd be damned if I let you fucking hurt him again!"

The punch landed directly onto the Russian's left cheek, knocking him to the ground, the rest of the members realizing what was happening. Alfred's shaky pupils focused on Ivan as he also realized what he had done. They locked eyes before Ivan gave him that psychotic smile again.

"To throw all of this away for him.. Now I'm really disappointed in you, Alfred." He retorted, brushing his hands over his bruised lips, looking at the crimson red liquid rolling off his brown gloves.

The American's eyes hardened onto him, lunging at him once more. "I don't give a rat's ass about your opinion of me!" The sound of Mr. Marshall's words repeated in the back of his head, as long as Arthur's advice but at this point, there was no going back. All that pent up fear and indecision all melted away by a prominent feeling of rage. How was he so foolish, to stay silent all this time?

In his blind fury, his fist rose once more, ready to land another punch before feeling a couple of hands latch onto him, holding down his arms. He turned around, spotting Arthur grabbing his right elbow.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The englishman yelled, sharply pulling him back.

"Let me go, I'm not done kicking his ass!" Alfred said, yanking his arm forward but it was no use. There were at least seven people struggling to restrain him, a couple more entering from the crowd as they realized that merely seven wasn't enough.

Through the yelling and commotion in the room, Alfred could clearly see Ivan being helped up gently, people starting to pity the bastard. That really only made him angrier. Slowly, he started to fight back against the crowd, his eyes focused on the Russian.

But before he could push another nation to the side, someone quickly ran up to him, blocking his view. For a moment, he didn't really care who it was. All he wanted to do was punch that smile off of Ivan's face again. But as his eyes glazed over the person, he seemed to have recognized those long caramel locks and green irises. His head shifted placement again, getting a much clearer sight of the man.

Toris stood there with his hands up, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Alfred's movements faltered for a bit, giving the crowd enough time to drag him further away from Ivan and out of the room safely.

"Just calm down." The Lithuanian said slowly. His stance was straighter, the color in his eyes didn't look as drained as it was before. It was an understatement to say that Alfred was relieved, but his anger was still present.

"Calm down? But he-" Alfred sputtered, feeling his limbs being released.

Before he could continue however, an enrage voice popped in. "Have you gone mad? We're in a meeting, and you attacked the host?"

Some of the nations who helped pull him out of the meeting room stood in front of the doors, guarding them.

"You've just made a fool out of yourself with an audience of over a hundred nations. Who is going to do business with you now, after seeing you act so immaturely?" Arthur yelled at him.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but Toris placed a hand in front of Arthur. "I think the best thing to do right now is to continue the meeting, I'll escort Mr. America back to his room."

Arthur seemed unsure, but sighed again. "Well at least it seems like you have some sense of responsibility." His head turned to Alfred, his voice getting harsher. "You do understand that I'll have to tell General Marshall about this right?" The American looked away silently, a sigh coming from Arthur. "Hopefully you'll have some sort of excuse by the time he calls you back."

Alfred could hear the disappointment in the Englishman's voice as he walked away from the two. Even though his head was down, he could only imagine the shame on Arthur's face.

"Come, let's get you to your room Mr. America." Toris said quietly, seemingly unfazed by the fight. He tugged at his arm as he skimmed through a room placement sheet.

Alfred reluctantly stood up, walking besides Toris as they made his way towards his room. He didn't make eye contact with anyone who was passing him by, his head hung as nantucket drooped sadly.

"Is your back okay?" He mumbled softly, stopping in front of his door, catching the Lithuanian by surprise.

He looked away hesitantly before continuing. "Yes, I'm doing fine, thank you for your concern."

They stood silently outside of the room as Alfred just stared blankly at the door. The air around them was thick, neither of them willing to make a move till the other spoke. Toris sighed, scratching his neck softly.

"May I ask you something Alfred?" He muttered, avoiding eye contact with the other.

The American's ears felt weird to a word he thought was foreign from the Lithuanian. He immediately turned to him, signaling him to continue.

Toris sighed, fiddling his hands nervously. "Could you.. not bring me up when you talk to Ivan anymore?"

"..What? Why?"

He flinched at the American's assertive voice, clenching his wrist tightly as he took a step back. "Please, just don't Alfred."

"After all the time we spent hanging out together, having each other's back, you're just going to pretend like all that never existed?" He said, his voice getting weaker the more he spoke. His breaths were shallow, the sound of his heart thumping loudly into his ears. There was this crumbling sensation igniting in his soul, the light casting down on them starting to fall.

"Please!" Toris cried out loudly. Alfred's leg stumbled back in shock. He looked back at Lithuanian, watching his posture change, how badly he had started to shiver. His arms were clutching onto each other tightly, like he was trembling in fear. "He'll get mad-" He continued in a shaky voice. "-and if he gets mad, he'll get mad at all of us too."

Alfred's eyes widened in horror, a thought of what he meant popping up in his head. _'He was one of the reasons they were experimented on..?'_

"Toris.." He mumbled, reaching out for his arm but the Lithuanina cowered away, giving the American that same terrified look he had given him before. As their eyes met, he could feel his heart finally shatter into pieces. Slowly, he pulled his hand back and stepped back to his doors. Toris wasn't even comfortable with hugging him.

He looked away, feeling the pain spread through his body as his voice began to crack. "Yeah.. I won't anymore."

"Thank you." Toris said, hurriedly walking away from him, leaving him there devastated.

There was a soft ringing coming from inside the room as he placed the keys in. He immediately realized it was General Marshall, probably calling him to give him another lecture. It was almost impressive on how Arthur got in touch with him so fast.

Slowly, with slumped shoulders, he walked over to the phone stand. He knew how urgent calls with the General were, but he couldn't find any motivation to rush to the call. He picked up the phone reluctantly and placed it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Alfred.. Do you care to tell me what happened between you and Ivan?" Mr. Marshall sighed over the telephone. It was probably in the middle of the night for the general. Unlike most times when the young American diplomat made a screw up, he just sounded exhausted today. His voice was raspy, like he placed no energy into being his usual temperamental self.

_'I'm such a failure.'_

He didn't realize why or when all of this happened, but he could recall that burning sensation in his eyes, tear welling up and threatening to fall. There was that miserable feeling banging in his head, a part of him that just wanted to be swallowed whole. General Marshall finally gave him a chance to prove himself responsible, and he managed to mess it up in the worst way possible. It had been such a long time since he felt so much of these unusual feelings crashing into him, he didn't quite know how to react. All he could do was attempt to open his mouth and speak.

"I don't know anymore, sir. I'm sorry for letting you down." His voice choked out, holding in quiet sobs from breaking out. He hunched over in a fetus position, clenching his knees tightly to his chest.

Mr. Marshall could hear how broken the boy sounded, the sound of phone static sizzling next to his ear. He sighed, bringing his own hand up to his temple, rubbing it painfully. He knew sending him alone to Russia was a bad idea, he should've known better. He could barely imagine what he looked like with tears on his face, at the bottom of a pit with no where to climb out. Since being introduced to this never-aging young man who has been on this country longer than anyone else alive, he's never seen him frown without smiling again after a couple of seconds. He looked like a kid, acted like on too. He should've made the smarter choice and went with him in case.

"We all make mistakes Jones, just come back and we'll fix this mess alright?" He said softly, carefully trying to tiptoe around the American. There was no response that followed his suggestion, the only thing he could hear was the sound of sniffling that was very poorly hidden. He sighed once more and placed the phone back onto the stand, disconnecting the call between him and Alfred.

The line went flat, but the American still held it to his ears, unable to move from his spot. Tears poured down from his face, eyesight getting blurry as the tears fell onto his glasses. He crumbled to the ground, leaning his forehead onto the wall, an inexplicable pain in his heart. What an idiot he turned out to be.

\------------------------------

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 4, 1950_

_3:50 AM_

Ludwig's eyebrows were higher up his forehead than before since Alfred had last looked at him. He genuinely didn't seem to expect that type of answer. the American chuckled softly, turning back to his bottle of alcohol and taking a deep swig of it. He only then realized how woozy he felt, and how many empty bottles were besides him. There was an attempt to count them all, but he could only describe the amount as way more than he usually would. And that was a lot.

"Well.. that was a shocking story." Ludwig mumbled, breaking the silence between them.

The american laughed in amusement, immediately grinning from ear to ear. "It's not too bad when you live with the memory for a year, it actually gets a bit funny."

"Funny how?"

"The amount of ignorance I had back then and how differently I've changed." He responded nonchalantly, ignoring the mess he made.

Ludwig let those words sink in. He glanced over to the American, who was chugging down a different bottle of alcohol from the one he had been drinking thirty seconds before. Despite his reckless attitude, and foolish exterior, Alfred made him out dumber than he ever let on. It honestly made him try to remember the last time he was in front of everyone, not smiling and serious. It was terrifying to know something more sinister was hiding beneath that husk of a joyful face.

The American seemed to notice the disturbed expression on his face, obviously not finding it as funny as he did.

"Hey man, don't worry about it anymore. I've been really building up my infantry, Ivan can't do anything to us as long as I'm still here." He joked.

The german didn't seem too satisfied with his answer.

Alfred sighed, waving his hands around wildly. "Did you want a happy ending to the story? I mean, the general ordered me the coffee in advance so I got to keep it, which was a victory in my opinion." He retorted.

"I didn't think that as the problem, Alfred." Ludwig grumbled. "Nevermind, it's irrelevant now." With a loud inhale, he picked himself off the sofa and looked back at the American who had made himself comfortable inside the piles of bottles.

"You should probably head back to your bedroom to sleep." Ludwig suggested, eyeing the uncomfortable amounts of empty bottles.

"Nah, I'll just do it here, it's all cool man."

He sighed loudly, pinching his nose bridge. "This is my good sofa, and you have a bathroom in your bedroom."

"I won't throw up on it dude! You can trust me on that." He smiled, giving the stern German a wide smile.

"Even if you don't throw up, you'll definitely wake up to bladder issues."

Alfred took a moment to think, staring at the bottles. "Oh yeah huh?"

Ludwig looked at him oddly, taking back his statement of him being smart. Alfred was just such an unpredictable person, but strangely in a positive way. There was something about today's interaction that made his think, maybe it wouldn't be too terrible to be friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah.. Well this is a bit awkward isn't it? I'm sorry if this all seemed so rushed, I really had a lot going on these two past weeks. Election anxiety, I'm having a rough spot with a friend because she did something that kinda hurt me, not to mention the large amount of workload my classes are giving me, and also a bit of writers block. I don't think this was a good chapter and I don't blame you guys if you think it is either. Things haven't been good for me right now, but I can manage through it. Stay classy and much love.


	15. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! That concludes Chapter 15, damn we've come quite a bit wouldn't you say? I promised you guys that I'll give you a chapter early, and that early chapter is coming soon. I can't wait to next chapter, I think you guys will like it too :) Thanks for waiting, and sticking with me readers! Stay classy and much love.

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 30, 1950_

_10:49 PM_

Alfred pulled out a small pocket knife, slicing the tape open on the cardboard box. The sound of rain pitter pattered on the roof, making this night colder than most, though it had its own calming aura. Ludwig was moving around in the kitchen in the safety of his apron. The heat of an opened oven flowed throughout the house, a sweet aroma filling the room. The American giddily pried the box open, feeling the joy spread across his fingers.

His eyes glimmered in excitement as he pulled out the red decorative packing tissue to reveal.. Another fancier box that held three containers of tea leaves. He sat there, dumbfounded at his unfortunate discovery. A soft sigh escaped his mouth as he placed the tea back into the box in disappointment. Even though Arthur knew he hated tea, he still sent this to him as an apology gift. Perhaps he wasn't as sorry as Alfred thought he was. In all honesty, he was really hoping for some coffee or maybe some candy.

He grabbed the tissue paper, planning on placing it into the box as well, before noticing a different textured piece of paper fall out of it. It was white little note card that was crumpled due to the American abrasiveness. He smiled sheepishly and unfolded the letter, smooth and cursive letters meeting his eyes as he could only deduct as Arthur's writing. Though as pretty and nice it was to look at, he managed to write it in such a tiny font, as if he was embarrassed to write it.

_'Dearest Alfred,_

_I hope you receive my package in good health, seeing that your mass-production of burgers has yet to cease. I could only pray that you haven't continued your addiction in Germany as well. Your brother, Matthew, talked with us after you left for West Berlin and we have come to terms that we may have been more unforgiving than others and that we used that untethered anger on you as well. We recognize that, and have sent you a gift we received from a custom tea shop, with teas we think would suit your tastes best for our regrettable actions. We will attempt to fix this, and wish you the very best._

_Signed, Arthur Kirkland'_

He chuckled, able to feel the Englishman's reluctance to admit he was wrong, especially on writing. It was a shame he got this only now though, since they were heading to the next meeting soon. He would've given anything to see that flustered face while he tried to hand him his present.

Ludwig looked at his smug face from across the kitchen island, his hands in puffy baking gloves as he held a steaming warm pumpkin pie. He grimaced at the expression the American held, finding it eerily similar to his brother's.

"Have you finished packing up your bags for tomorrow?" He asked, a skeptical look on his face as he placed the pie down and reached for another tray in the oven.

Without looking up, he continued to smile down at the paper. "Yeah, yeah, just got a gift from Arthur."

Ludwig peered over at the box of tea sets and answered him, confused. "If I am able to recall, I remember you disliking tea."

"That's not the gift I was talking about." He said, with a cheshire cat grin.

Hastily, he shoved the note into his pocket, still looking as proud as ever with himself. Ludwig just ignored it, removing his gloves. "Well, I hope you enjoy it." He said, taking off his apron as well. "I've made a pumpkin pie, though you'll have to eat it alone. I'm not a fan of pumpkin pie myself."

"Woah! It smells great man!" He yelled excitedly, watching the steam flow from it. But something in his expression faltered for a moment, a split moment of thought process going through his head. He turned around towards Ludwig who was putting away his mixing bowl and asked, "Wait, aren't we leaving tomorrow? Even if you did like pie, we couldn't possibly finish this entire pie by ourselves in one night."

Ludwig paused, completely unmoving hunched over before continuing, "I plan on giving my neighbors the rest of my leftovers."

"Oh. Okay then." Alfred mumbled. "That's nice of you to do, didn't know you were so close to them."

"They asked me to take care of their dog while on vacation since she seemed to have taken a liking to me."

"Dog sitting hmm? That must've been fun." He said, a suspicious tone lingering around his voice.

For a second there, doubtful thoughts started to spill into his mind, his eyebrows furrowing together. _'This wasn't his paranoia again, was it?'_ He asked himself, sighing. Doubt has ruined his life up until this point, this would just be him giving into his old nasty habits again.

"Do you mind if I take this up to my room? I still have to overlook some trade agreements, and those usually take a while." He asked, serving himself an even slice of the pie. It would be best if he just let go of Ludwig's weird alibi. Who knows, maybe he actually likes socializing with people.

The German grunted in response, Alfred happily walking back up the stairs to his room with a dessert in hand.

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 30, 1950_

_1:07 AM_

The clock ticked much louder than before, crickets falling silent due to how deep into the night it was. And even with the thick blanket covering him and the night sky draping over him in its darkness, he still found it difficult to sleep. Out of irritation, he begrudgingly flipped over on his other side, trying to get himself comfortable. _'I knew I should have eaten the pie when I was in the kitchen, not only did it get cold after I finished my paperwork, but now I can't sleep at all!'_

He sat up in bed, grabbing his bomber jacket from the side of his bed. He really couldn't sleep today, even if he had done a lot of paperwork today. He needed to be on his A-game tomorrow, and that meant getting ahead in all his work. _'So why was he still awake?'_

Maybe it was because he was heading to Russia soon. His hands reached out for his glasses on the nightstand, cold air prickling at his fingertips, lost in his thoughts. Afterall, he did share his burden of a memory to Ludwig, and to relive it so soon? A sick feeling swarmed around him, his head drooping a bit. He really didn't want to see that guy again. There was something about him, about Ivan on that day he was confronted by him in France. The more he thought about it, the more the aura of him made him shudder. There was a desperate tone to his voice, like he was clinging onto his denial for dear life. Alfred rubbed his hand against his head painfully, overbearing thoughts flooding into his mind. It hurt, just to think about him. He was up to something, he just knows it. The question however, was what?

Though he had stayed up, his eyes didn't feel like they were burning at all. It actually felt really refreshing, though it would've been nicer if his eyes didn't burn in the morning instead. He looked at the window, tracing the crescent moon's curves with his eyes, mesmerized by its calming presence. Hopefully Ivan won't do something to provoke him, all he wanted was to avoid him. That egotistical grin was enough to piss him off, and he didn't want a repeat of last year. _'I'll just have to endure it, as much as it hurts my pride, it would hurt my reputation more if I-'_

_*Creakk.. Flick!_

Alfred spun his head mid-thought, startled by the noise. But upon further investigation, he realized that it was just the sound of Ludwig moving through the night, light coming from the gap between his floor and door. Before he let out a sigh of relief, the question quickly rushed over him as he paused. He looked at his watch, and it confirmed to him that it was indeed 1:14. _'Wait, so why the hell is Ludwig up so late?'_

His irises watched as the movement of Ludwig's shadow slowly disappeared as he descended down the staircase. Out of instinct, he followed suit, creaking open the door just enough to see him moving around in the kitchen. The exposure of light made him cringe, but he could clearly see Ludwig in a thick black coat, black pants, and black slacks. Wait actually, he was wearing all black, like a spy would in a movie. The only thing that wasn't black in his get up was a rather large leather satchel he had slung across his chest. But even then, it was a pretty dark brown.

For a moment, he turned back, his face being visible to the American. Admittedly, Alfred flinched a bit when Ludwig turned so suddenly, but he could see a solemn expression on his face. His eyes were twinkling, unlike anything Alfred has ever seen before, but there was a nervous aura surrounding him. It was almost as if he was hesitant to move from his spot, yet he didn't seem to let that faze him.

His figure moved to a small table, hovering over the small rotary telephone. Slowly the dials turned as the sound of a phone number being clocked in echoed throughout the house.

_*Ring! ..Ring! ..Rin-_

"Hello? Ah yes, Mr. Muller, do you have the commission complete.... Good, I'll be arriving in around fifteen minutes. Please have a helmet prepared for me." Ludwig softly mumbled into the phone, though despite his efforts, it was clear enough for Alfred to catch on.

The American pulled back from the door, a confused expression on his face. Ludwig had never struck him as the unorganized type, so what did he have planned so late into the night? And for some reason, it required him to have a helmet? At least he was being safe with whatever he was doing.

That last comment stuck to his mind a bit, lingering more than others. As long as Ludwig was being safe, it shouldn't really matter what he was doing right? It wasn't Alfred's place to intervene, but there was still that feeling lurking deep in his guts. Of course, he wanted to get rid of that nasty little habit of poking his nose in other people's business, but seeing this made him squirm. Something was really off with the German's demeanor, he had this crazy look of desperation in his eyes. It was really unnerving, looking at it sent a shiver down his spine.

Ludwig placed the phone down, letting out a sigh. He grabbed his bowler hat and an umbrella, and left out the door, shutting it quietly. The house turned dark again, and the sound of Ludwig leaving out the door disappeared.

Alfred walked down carefully with the built in flashlight of his swiss knife. He was lucky to have picken such a useful tool to bring with him on this trip. The light was dim however, but it was better than nothing. His feet touched the cold floor as he walked towards the window, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head swung suddenly, the light of the flashlight revealing a piece of paper, neatly placed on the dining table. It surprised the American on how he had taken such a long time to notice it, but he approached it quickly, not wanting to miss seeing Ludwig's mysterious departure.

_'Dear Alfred,_

_I apologize for my absence this morning, but I regret to inform you that I will not be returning. I've made plans today that took me too much preparation for me to miss. Do not go looking for me nor let my lack of attendance hold you from attending the summit. Please lock the door-'_

He slammed the paper down immediately, rushing to tie his boots on. He would've gone back up to get his gloves, but there wasn't any time. _'Damnit Ludwig,the one time I don't want my paranoia to be right, you go and do something like this?'_ He didn't know what that letter meant, but he was about to find out. Of course, he was worried about Ludwig safety and his weird behavior only increased it, but he actually couldn't go anywhere without Ludwig. It was a bold thing for him to assume Alfred knew how to get to the airport, especially without a map.

The smell of wet concrete hit him almost immediately as he slipped outside. There was a suffocating feeling of the damp air around him, silently eyeing Ludwig's figure disappear into the eerie mist. His eyes could barely render the environment around them, the buildings in the neighborhood were fading into the darkness of the night, his sight limited. Rain poured down on the American's flimsy umbrella, splashes of water soaking into his pants. He grabbed the first one he saw, it was his luck that it turned out to be crappy. The thin white shirt, and pajama pants he wore made his body shiver, the only warm thing on his body was his bomber jacket. His face was cold to the touch, so were his hands. He almost wanted to rush back into the safety and comfort of the house, but he knew that it would make him stay up all night, if he didn't know what Ludwig was up to. The intensity of his curiosity had increased, ten-fold and he'd be damned if he didn't carry this out to the end.

His boots softly splashed into some puddles as he followed Ludwig. He was lucky that the sound of the rain covered his footsteps, making him nearly inconspicuous. Though it also made it really hard to follow Ludwig from such a long distance as well. But out of the deep mists of the city, a large warehouse emerged and Alfred realized after a minute, they were walking straight towards it. He quickly ducked behind a corner, watching from afar as another man seemed to greet Ludwig and then invite him inside. There was a reluctance in his movements, but Alfred also made his way towards the entrance, his dismay of the warehouse quickly becoming apparent. The roof seemed to be caved in one spot, being covered by a scrappy blue tarp. It had thick wooden doors that flung itself in the wind, pieces of it obviously missing. The walls were made of concrete, rusty orange metal rods exposed in some parts. He looked back at Ludwig, who looked well dressed in every aspect. If he wasn't mistaken, he would've thought that this was a man heading to his high paying job. So what was someone like him, doing in a dump like this?

 _'Ludwig wasn't getting involved in something shady was he?'_ He grimaced at the thought, expecting himself the worst outcomes of following Ludwig. Maybe he could help him, though the German had a pretty good build, probably wouldn't need much help now that he thought about it. He moved stealthily, clutching his umbrella tightly to him as he also walked into the warehouse. He made his way in sprinting for some long bars of metal pipes that were strangely stacked and aligned together that were close to the wall.

Muttering could be heard from where the American was standing, sounds of items being clunked together and the noise of papers being flipped. He looked over the rods, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ludwig, but his eyes widened in excitement of what he realized what they were currently standing in.

Parts of broken airplane wings were scattered on the floor, noses were taken apart and random tools were on the ground. There was a sense of familiarity that flowed into the American able to feel his lips breaking out into a grin as he looked at them. There were planes that were somewhat finished, while others laid broken on some more blue tarp. None of them were completed however, and the planes that did, looked rusty and had scrap obviously plated on the sides of them. The point was, they looked normal, but to the eyes of a veteran pilot, dysfunctional. Despite that, Alfred couldn't contain the utter amount of joy he had, the sensation of memories crashing into him. Though he hated war, he loved the feeling of flying. Like he was soaring, able to break free from the burden of being himself in front of others. It was just him, up in the sky, and the clouds. The thought of it, made him feel so much more relaxed. What he wouldn't give to fly a plane again.

His eyes ran across the rows of broken airplanes, leading to an opening on the other side of the warehouse. A rather large runway was connected to the building, and what was stationed on the track made him gasp. There, stood a small fighter jet, its glistening wings brimming in the moonlight. It was coated with sprinkles of water from the rain, and though it seemed scrappy, it seemed more furnished than the rest of the airplanes there.

Not seeing any sign of Ludwig, he carefully made his way to the jet, looking in at the interior through the window. Even if it was still dark, he was able to confirm that this was one of those German fighter jets due to the cockpit's design. His eyes gleamed as he looked deeper into the rear gunner side, admiring the radio sets and the metal rack-like chair. He had always wanted to check out a plane like this, especially since the production of these types were halted after complaints of the pilot not being able to tell if the radio operator was dead or even in the plane.

But it still had its functions, features that made it differ from American jets. And to think he'd be able to see it upclose. Slowly, he pried the clamped door open, hearing its awful creaking noise. He slipped himself into the small crevice he managed to make and closed the door back on. It was eerily quiet inside the small jet, though at the same time, it most likely had some sort of sound proofing hidden inside the metal walls. He tried to move the best he could around the operator's side of the plane, looking at the different functions. Even though he loved to pilot planes, the operators always had so much more space.

Before he was about to seat himself on the metal chair, he could hear mutters of conversation slowly getting louder, and louder. Quickly, he ducked beneath one of the windows of the plane, hoping that whoever was approaching the plane didn't look into the rear side too closely.

" **You're a crazy one aren't you.** " A gruff voice mumbled, just outside of the clamped door.

" **Perhaps, but that doesn't really matter, as long as you're getting your money.** " A familiar voice responded.

Alfred's eyes widened, realizing exactly who was behind him.

" **No, I suppose not.** " The gruff man sighed, moving to the front.

The sound of the pilot's side door opening vibrated throughout the plane, rain splattering on the floor once again ringing through Alfred's ears. A man got inside, flicking on some switches as panels started to flicker on around the American. The engine roared as it was brought to life, causing him to panic a bit. It's been a while since he was on a jet this small. He didn't even know where they were going.

He fumbled out the pocket mirror, the same one he had bought nearly a month ago out to look at who the pilot was through the small glass frame on the metal door that separated the pilot and the operator. In those cracked lenses, where pieces of glass had already started to fall out, was Ludwig. He wore that solemn expression he had on before, the only difference being that the bowler hat has now been replaced with a pilot helmet.

' _Oh.._ ' Alfred thought quietly. He took another glance at Ludwig. ' _Oh no._ '


	16. Distraught

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_1:32 AM_

The operator's side was blocked off by the metal door between them and the pilot's side. But even then, he could hear the two men talking behind him. And with the hand mirror, he could see them, though it was really hard to.

The gruff man leaned over into the cockpit, pulling a short cigarette from his mouth. " **You really sure you want to do this? Who knows what they'll do if they catch you, probably slit your throat**." He grumbled holding an umbrella so the pilot's side wouldn't get wet. Alfred clamped his mouth shut as he silently sat there uncomfortably. The cold metal ground was so hard on his spine, the exact reason why he liked sitting in the pilot's seat more. " **And this aircraft ain't really the stablelest due to your sudden request,** " The man continued, slapping the plane, " **but she'll fly for a good twenty-five minutes, give or take.** "

Ludwig tightened the gloves he was given around his wrists, settling into his seat. He didn't once spare the old man a single look. " **As long as it can make it into the other side, that's all I'll need.** " All he did was look on at the rainy sky, almost as if in wonder.

" **Suit yourself then.** " The man replied, shrugging his shoulders. " **Have fun over there. Whoever you're meeting sure is one hell of a lucky person to know someone as loyal as you. If anything goes south, use that parachute I gave you.** "

Ludwig grunted in response as the front of the cockpit was shut by the man, walking away to let the jet move. However, this entire time, Alfred sat directly behind the wall that separated him and the clueless german, confused and with the cryptic conversation he had just overheard, very scared.

' _Where the hell is he taking us? They'll slit our throats? Who is they?_ ' He thought to himself, slowly trying to get up. An idea, or rather an answer struck him as he tried to grab for the chair. He turned away from it, his head swerved back, in horror to look back at the German. ' _Wait.. Is he going to-_ '

Before he was given more time to ponder the destination they were headed, the smell of oil filled the American's nostrils, and the plane was shot forward. His body slid across the floor, bumping into multiple amounts of equipment as he did. "Ow.." He quietly mumbled to himself. The plane skidded across the runway, causing him to fall onto his side and slide on the floor yet again, the blow of the impact being much harder than before. He slammed into the control boards along with the pile of equipment. "Shit!" He whispered, doing his best to dig himself out of the pile he was stuck in. He latched his hand onto the small operator chair, pulling himself up. Quickly, he sat in the metal rack, gripping onto its sides for support. He looked back at Ludwig again, the fear in his eyes only being folded upon themselves. His life was in the hands of a pilot who didn't know how to pilot. Well, not necessarily his 'life' but he wasn't a big fan of dying for a bit and then being resurrected in pain with half of his body trying to fix itself.

He sat there nervously, as the plane started to take off. The chair that he was admiring only seconds before really wasn't as cushy or stable for Ludwig's type of flying. It made sense why this design was discontinued so quickly. As they went up higher, Alfred peered over the window, trying to get rid of his nervousness. The lights of West Berlin sparkled beneath them, their upgraded light bulbs making the city shimmer like a glittering snow globe. It was almost breathtaking at this perfect view; He was never given an opportunity to look at the city from such a low angle.

But as they continued to fly, the american couldn't help but notice that the plane was ever so slowly inching its way to the East Berlin side. Unlike West Berlin, its east counterpart still had those dull yellow colored light bulbs, the ones that pop if you used it too long. The part where the two sides divided was all too obvious to the human eye, which was what made the poor American's already terrified heart, plummet.

' _Holy shit. Ludwig, he's.._ ' Alfred thought, frantically getting up to look through the glass window of the door separating them, in hopes of getting his attention. ' _He's actually gone insane!_ '

Ludwig sat there, with a blank expression on his face as he always had on before. His lips ran a thin line and his eyes looked straightforward in determination. It only made the American more panicked, seeing how calm the German was.

He widened his mouth to say something, to yell at him, before hearing the sound he was desperately hoping he wouldn't hear.

* _Bang! Ke-klunk!_

.

.

.

* _Bang! Ke-klunk!_

Alfred slowly turned his head towards the noise and he looked on in horror as the jet wing to their left was visibly now on fire and crooked. Bright amber flames emerged, contrasting deeply with the thick black smoke poured from the broken wing. His eyes widened as within seconds, the smoke consumed the once beautiful view right before his very eyes. Before Alfred could panic even more, the plane suddenly started to rock violently in the air, his body tipped backwards from the door.

* _Bam!_

His body was tossed into the hard machinery again, letting out a whimper of pain, before being thrown back into the door again like a rag doll.

"Fuck!" He cried out, feeling one of the panels he crashed into pile onto his back.

The German's brows furrowed as he felt his chair shake from the impact. The gruff man did tell him that there was some stuff in the back, but he never specified that there was so much of it. It only caught his interests more when he heard a muffled scream right behind him. He quickly turned his head in confusement, only to be met with the American's face pressed against the window through the shaded lenses of his helmet, an agonizing expression on his face.

"They're shooting at us!" Alfred yelled, still crushed by the panels toppling over onto him. His fist desperately banged the metal door when Ludwig didn't show any sign of moving as the air in the jet grew hotter.

But all the German could do, was stare at the enraged man behind him in confusement and shock as they started to plummet downwards. His jaw hung from his face, brows furrowed slightly. In a pure moment of complete bafflement, he managed to mutter out, ".. Alfred?" before the plane shook again.

* _Bang! Ke-klunk!_

This of course, sent Alfred flying back into the plane, freeing him from the equipment. Ludwig continued to stare at him or the empty space he was in moments before, still trying to process the fact that they were both somewhere they weren't supposed to be.

Alfred gasped for air when he finally fell backwards. Though, he still hit his back pretty badly. "Oh god.." He groaned, wincing at the pain. It only took him a second to realize that they were descending at an alarming rate, with not much time to save themselves. Hurriedly, he ran to the metal door, banging it to the point where he started to make dents.

"Land the goddamn plane!" He yelled uncontrollably, the ground getting closer and closer. The sound of his heart beating banged through his head, anger filling his every bone as more seconds flew past them.

Ludwig seemed to snap out of his post-shock phase as the dents were starting to break open the door, turning back to the controls. He pulled on the wheel, causing the plane to lift itself back upwards. Alfred held onto two handles placed squarely on the door, holding on for dear life as the plane rumbled, soaring through the sky before finally crashing onto an empty field. Their bodies rocked forward from the impact, the sound of metal being scraped against rocks searing through their ears. The American clenched his eyes tightly, praying that he'd still be able to walk after this as the plane slowed down.

After standing there for a couple of seconds, he reopened his eyes, realizing that they finally stopped. And better yet, he wasn't unconscious. "Oh my god.." He mumbled quietly, placing a hand on his chest as his heart thumped wildly in exasperation.

The sound of the pilot's side opening and closing caught his attention, but he still kept his head low. He just needed a moment to breathe.

* _klunk, klunk._

"Alfred?"

The American turned his head to see Ludwig knocking on the window facing him. He looked confused, speechless, and most of all, worried.

"What are you doing here?" He managed to mumble out, almost to the point whispering. Unlike his usual stern face, this time he just looked surprised.

Alfred looked at him bewildered, his hand still grabbing his chest. "What am I- What are you doing here?" He yelled. "Why did you fly here, of all places?"

Before Ludwig could answer, the sounds of boots thundering against the hollow streets and shouts of soldiers echoed from the city, growing louder by the second.

As much as he wanted to yell at Ludwig and his terrible flying skills, the American cranked open his door hastily and climbed out, angrily muttering under his breath as he did.

"Fuck, they found us. Of course they found us."

The German helped him up, prepping his arm around his shoulder. They quickly ran into the city, hiding behind large garbage cans as men ran past them. The shadows hid their figures well, especially since Ludwig was wearing all black.

Water soaked into their clothes as they sat there, waiting for the soldiers to finally disappear. In a moment of distraught, none of them had thought to bring any of the umbrellas with them. So there they stayed, silently in the rain until the footsteps of the last soldier vanished. Alfred shivered there miserably and annoyed. The insides of his furry jacket was completely wet, extra water pulling a weight down on him. His back was still hurting and he wanted to take a shower so badly. But here he was, standing in the middle of the harsh rain, smell of rotten fruit and ungodly scents filling his nose.

"They're gone, let's go." Ludwig muttered, walking past him as if he hadn't just crashed a plane.

The American didn't move from his spot. His bomber jacket sat on his shoulders, drenched and cold like the rest of his body. Every part of his was dripping in water, and anger the more the rain poured down on them.

"Why here?" Alfred shouted, visibly upset. "Why the hell did you bring us here?" They were basically standing in Ivan's territory, at the foot of the lion's den. Only now, he understood what the man was telling Ludwig.

' _But that man was so wrong._ ' He thought to himself, the resent building up in his body. ' _If they caught us, they wouldn't slit our throats._ ' After personally knowing what Ivan was capable of doing and his lack of hesitance and sympathy? ' _They'd torture us._ '

Ludwig looked at him silently. At a moment like this, the American would've jumped at the opportunity to dig deeper for answers but that look Ludwig had, stopped him.

He stared deep into that dark cyan blue eye, his right eye still covered with an eyepatch. They seemed relieved, vibrant under the moonlight. Something about it, him, seemed different.

"I never meant to have dragged you into this." Ludwig quietly said to him, looking down at the drizzling street walk. "But I can take you somewhere warm with me."

Alfred looked at him skeptically, though the softness of his voice started to scare him. ' _Had something bad happened?_ '

"Yeah, yeah, let's just go already." He grumbled out loudly. "I hate being in the rain."

The German nodded his head, the American followed behind him, still bitterly clenching his mouth in silence. He didn't usually like it when Ludwig was all serious and firm with his voice, but hearing the tone of voice he used just now was strangely even more upsetting. Ludwig was acting weird, even more of a good reason it was to follow him although it did risk his consciousness and stress levels. ' _There were more ways he could've gotten into the city, like going through security like a normal person._ ' He huffed at the thought. But as they walked more into the city, that resentment slowly faded into a mix of worry. The rain had started to calm down now, lightly tapping them though it didn't make a difference since they were already dripping in water. But Alfred had started to think, paranoia rising in him.

' _How were they supposed to get to the meeting now? Arthur would be so mad if he ended up being late to the conference, after he sent that apology gift._ ' He thought to himself. And General Marshall would try to find his 'actual' excuse if he heard why he wasn't able to join. How was he going to convince the General that he wasn't at fault this time? He painfully massaged his temple, closing his eyes as he did.

From the corner of his eye, he could spot Ludwig pausing in front of a brick house at the edge of a street. A warm orange light illuminated from it, a cloudy fog covering the windows. It seemed to be the only house that was still up at this late hour. The German stared up at it with an expression of wonderment, and what looked to be.. A smile on his face?

Alfred blinked once. Then rubbed his eyes when it didn't change. A relaxed, satisfied grin laid on his face, not even the rain seeming to bother him. Since when has he ever seen him smile like that?

"Is something wrong man?" The American asked him, hesitantly. Seeing him act like this was really out of the blue and as mentioned before, worrying.

"Oh no," Ludwig mused, almost in a jokingly way. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just glad to see that he hasn't changed."

The American stared at him oddly. "You mean the person you're meeting?"

Ludwig didn't answer him, just went back to staring at the house. Alfred furrowed his brows in confusement, following the quiet giant as they made their way to the door. And there they stood, in front of it, unmoving. At this point, the rain pouring down on them wasn't what had the American worrying. He could feel the hesitation from the man standing besides him, rain being the only thing filling in the silence.

After a while, the German's hand finally rose up from his side, giving the door two firm knocks. The sound of feet scurrying around the floor stopped, but soon grew closer to the door.

Alfred looked at Ludwig, suspicion emanating from him. He could've sworn that the German was holding in a gasp, though it was so quiet. He turned his head back to the door, staring at it intently as the doorknob started to jingle.

It opened slightly from the right, a face peeking out to see who it was before fully opening it. Alfred's eyes shot immediately at them, widening as he examined the person more closely.

A raspy, eccentric voice broke through the rain, ringing something in the back of the American's head. "Hello?" It asked, widening the door a bit more. Before Alfred could process why it sounded so familiar, his eyes finally took a complete look at the man in the house, widening in the process.

A pale white hand wrapped itself around the door unsurely, white hair overshadowing a pair of bright beady crimson eyes. A strong frame blocked any rest of the light from the house escaping, as if he was guarding the door from intruders. But the stance seemed to falter as he recognized the two figures standing in front of him.

Finally, realization hit the American, like a ton of bricks or the panels crashing onto him only minutes before. He staggered back, taking in the situation fully. His jaw dropped from his face, unable to create a single coherent thought. "Gilbert?" He muttered out loud, his soft comment only being drowned out by the rain.

Ludwig and Gilbert stood there in shock, a silence solely between the two. The German looked at him, relief filling his stomach. He sighed to himself, a smile returning to his face as he did. His eyelids came crashing down upon themselves at ease.

Gilbert grinned back, unable to believe his eyes. "Ludwig? Is that you?" He shouted, removing his hand from the door, stepping closer to his brother.

"Bruder, I.. I wasn't sure if you were.. But you are, a-and I.." He mumbled suddenly, stumbling over his words. Before he could finish his sentences, the albino grasped him tightly in a hug, burying his face into his wet coat.

"Kesesesese. You don't have to explain yourself, I missed you too." He chuckled, patting him on the back as water soaked into his clothes as well.

The German seemed hesitant at first, but finally hugged the other back, mumbling something back. They stood there in each other's embrace as Alfred watched from afar, folding his arms in exasperation. He could've sworn he heard the usually stoic german sniffle, more water staining his face than before, Gilbert starting to get emotional as well. Awkwardly, the American turned his head, facing away from the brothers. If he stared too much, they might start to feel weird.

He took a deep breath as he tried to ignore the pain. His back ached terribly, but it was gradually feeling less excruciating than before, albeit very slowly. It'd probably take a day for it to completely go away though, seeing as he slammed into that panel really hard and it slammed right back into him. He cringed at the memory of it, the numbness of the cold nipping at his fingers and nose. ' _Was it Ludwig who was bad at flying, or was it the jet?_ ' He asked himself, glancing at them shortly.

Even though the German was facing away from him, he could guarantee that he was probably smiling from ear to ear at the moment. He never thought that Ludwig was capable of exhibiting such emotions, it really did feel weird just to see his lips curving upwards even by a little. ' _But still.._ ' A voice echoed in his head. Even if it was unusual to see him like this, bringing up the question of why Ludwig thought he could do this without any consequences would spoil his mood. And he has already lived such a difficult life. His head turned away from them again, eyes wandering around the empty streets of East Berlin.

' _I guess it'd be okay if I just laid off on him until we returned back then._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^-^; Hey guys, it's your author speaking! I originally planned to get this out by Saturday because I had so much free time but I didn't make the cut. But hey! It's our boy, Gilbert! God, I've wanted to write this chapter so badly for such a long time. Poor brothers, being separated after such a long time, they deserved this little scene. I can't wait for next time; Stay classy, and much love.


	17. Brothers

_East Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_2:03 AM_

The fire crackled softly, sparks flying off the pile as the dried wood crumbled beneath the flames. An orange aura of light illuminated softly from it, it's mesmerizing glow keeping the exhausted American's attention from focusing on anything else. A brown fluffy wet jacket was hung by the fireplace, dripping water onto the carpet. The sound of shuffling around the small cozy home bounced off the walls, excited chatter coming from both of the german brothers in the background. Alfred's head stuck firmly to the backboard of the cushy chair he sat in, keeping his shivering numb hands close to his chest. Although his body was still as cold as ever even after being seated so close to the fire, he couldn't let that bother him. All he was capable of doing at the moment was staring into the burning pit.

Even after seeing an old friend in such good health after not having any contact with him, he still felt worried. There was something plaguing his thoughts, eating him up inside with fear. All he wanted was to go back to the large house they were in before, all the way back to West Berlin. But that wasn't possible now, was it?

His eyes shifted from the fire, staring at the bleaky gray wallpaper chipping off, moldy spots obviously growing there. If they didn't come up with a way to leave quick, Ivan will send one of his goons to check on them and find out they're gone. Once he figured that out, there would be no telling what that guy will do to them when he finds out they're in _his_ city. It will be inevitable for them to be sniffed out, he will one way or another. Alfred's brows furrowed at the terrible thought, his heartbeat racing faster. Was there really no other way? He couldn't go out through security, he didn't have any form of identification on him. And the plane they came on crashed and was riddled with bullets, it'll be a chance in a million if they found another mechanic here in East Berlin harboring illegal aircrafts too. Not to mention, Ivan had just put up those barbed wire fences around the city, and those are guarded by a ton of soldiers day in, day out.

He clenched his eyes tightly, letting out a deep sigh as he placed a hand on his temple. A pounding pain was already attacking his head the more he tried to think. No matter what type of crazy Chicago back street style type of escape tactic he thought of, it would either take too long or give him too many wounds. Usually, the wounds thing would be fine, but since he was on a time limit, he would end up appearing in Russia unable to move his legs properly or have abdominal pains. The bullets Ivan was starting to produce were absolutely brutal, the type that pierces right through your body, the ones that go so fast that they come out clean even after being shot. He lightly shuddered at the thought of being shot by even one of those crazy bullets. Healing from those things would take at least a couple hours, but being shot multiple times and with that many soldiers? Three days at least. But even with those supernatural regeneration powers of his, he still wouldn't be able to heal in time for the summit. Slowly, he let out a groan as he slumped forwards, finally feeling the back pains rush over him. These usually took an hour to get rid of, but damn were they a pain in the ass to deal with.

His eyes wandered to the over excited Prussian comparing his height and 'how much he's grown.' to the unenthusiastic brother of his, though Ludwig couldn't help but smile back at him. Another sigh slipped out, closing his eyes again so he could think. If Alfred was meeting Gilbert under any other circumstances, he would've been ecstatic. It's been a while since they met, and they grew a bit close during the revolution. ' _But Gilbert's not supposed to be here._ ' Then again, neither were him and Ludwig, but for the Prussian? He really wasn't supposed to be here, especially in East Berlin of all places.

"Hey, why so gloomy? Did you not miss the awesome me?" A raspy voice shrill from behind him, roughly scrubbing a soft white towel into the American's hair.

"Wha- Hey!" Alfred exclaimed, the towel blocking his eyesight.

Gilbert snickered from behind him, proudly lifting up the towel as he revealed the ruffled mess of hair he left in his stead. The young country sitting in the chair quietly pouted as the man behind him continued to laugh. Before the war, the Prussian had learned a new word from the American's slang vocabulary Alfred had used at the time. He didn't think it would do much harm to have taught him some of the words, but a part of him started to regret teaching him the word, 'awesome'.

"Come on, don't be such a downer!" He said, smoothing out the hair he had just tousled. "Didn't you guys come to see me?" He wore a smile so wide, his eyes seemed as if they were closed. Short platinum hair stuck out from his head, mixing with his ivory complexion.

Alfred looked away sheepishly, placing his hand on the back of his neck. "Ludwig came to see you, actually. I just tagged along."

Gilbert lent out a hand, ignoring what he said."Come on, join us at the table!" His hands grabbed onto his, pulling him upwards unprompted.

Before Alfred could respond, he was dragged to the measly sized living room, placed in front of the table as the Prussian scurried away to the kitchen. He would've been more lively about it, if he wasn't able to touch the ceiling with his own hand without jumping. The wooden planks above him were old, a part of him was scared that if he touched it, they would turn to dust. It was kind of sad how small the home they were standing in, when compared to their heights. For him and Gilbert, they were short enough to not bump their heads if they just walked around the house. But for the third member in this small humble abode.. For a moment, his eyes shortly glanced at Ludwig who was unpacking the leather satchel. The American almost burst out into laughter when he was the expression on the normally stoic German's face.

Even though he was composed and serious as he always was, maintaining that perfect poker face. Alfred raised a hand to his mouth to stifle his childish giggles. It was so obvious that Ludwig was struggling badly to not look like he was about to punch a hole into the ceiling. His head was slightly tilted, due to the height of the home whenever he stood up straight, he'd manage to hit his head every time. The frustration and increasing annoyance was slowly piling onto his expression. But even then, he was still able to contain his irritation. As annoyed as he was, he didn't seem like he could bring himself to be upset.

Alfred sighed as he took a seat at the rickety wooden table. It was nice seeing Ludwig so relaxed, in his element rather. If he was so carefree, that must mean he probably had a plan on how to get back, it was Ludwig afterall. He leaned into the chair more, feeling the heat wafting from the fireplace room. ' _Yeah, he has a plan, of course he'll have a plan. Maybe a secret tunnel, or something like that._ ' He tried to reassure himself, but something still felt off to him.

His eyes burned as he stared up at the ceiling, fatigue slowly starting to grasp onto him. Despite the cold, pattering night, the sound of the rain was actually kind of comforting. Usually, he'd take out his nice dark roast coffee and start reading a book with some record playing in his home. But he had to turn out here of all places. It was too bad that he had wasted such a perfect night to finish his book for an accidental kidnapping to an illegal country.

"Kesesese, sit down, sit down! I didn't think I'd have any guests at such a late hour, especially not you two!" Gilbert loudly yelled from the kitchen, pouring them each a cup of water. He made his way to where they sat, placing what seemed to be diluted tea in front of them. There were obviously leaves inside the cups, but the aroma was weak, almost undetectable. "How did you get here anyways?" The excited Prussian turned his head towards his brother, eyes shining brightly. "Don't tell me, has my little baby brother finally done something reckless?"

Ludwig looked away, embarrassed as he lifted the mug to his mouth. This only amplified his brother to push onwards. "Did you jump the wired fence? Did you punch one of the soldiers in the stomach?"

The more Gilbert kept asking, the more quiet the German became. Alfred sighed, intervening the entourage of questions. "Actually, Ludwig flew us over the border in this scrappy airplane." He watched on as Gilbert's expression slowly started to light up in delight.

"You flew a plane? You don't even know how to fly a plane!" He cackled, tears forming from his eyes as he continued to laugh at the image of a confused german piloting.

The American took a sip from his cup while he did, thinking to himself. ' _Well that explains a lot._ '

"Where did you guys land it?" Gilbert asked again, finally finishing laughing.

Alfred opened up his mouth, presumably to answer exactly how they 'landed' the plane before receiving a chilling glare from Ludwig. His mouth shut closed instantly, taking another sip of his cup.

Ludwig turned back to Gilbert, awkwardly placing his hand behind his neck as he averted his eye. "Ah.. we landed it near the empty field, north-east of the city."

"North-east?" The Prussian repeated, a hesitant tone coating his voice as he stared holes into his brother. "You mean that place where the sound of something crashing and being shot at was coming from? That was you two?"

A hollow silence intertwined with the atmosphere, both Ludwig and Alfred avoiding Gilbert's gaze. That was enough confirmation he needed from them, gulping as he asked his next question.

"Are you two okay?"

Alfred's ears turned upwards as he said that. "Oh yeah, I was about to ask you that.." He muttered, standing up from his chair. Before the brothers could ask what he meant, the American quickly turned around and flipped his shirt up, his back visible to them. Though he wasn't facing them, he could hear the disgruntlement from Ludwig, only being able to assume that the bruise was as serious as he thought it was.

"Woah." Gilbert mumbled, getting up from his seat as well to look at it closer. Peachy red splotches dotted the American's upper back, disappearing as they reached his shoulders. A large purple spot on the top left on his skin stood out from the others, grimacing as Gilbert placed his hand over it.

"Is it that big?" Alfred asked tensely. It worried him that the Prussian was so unusually silent. ' _Was it that bad?_ ' He asked himself.

Gilbert grabbed for a couple of mirrors from a random shelf, giving one to the American and holding one himself. From there, he could visibly see the bruise, and the reason why Ludwig looked so guilty.

"Awesome.." They whispered simultaneously as they both stared at it in awe.

"That's gotta be the biggest bruise I've ever seen in my life." He mumbled, the Prussian agreeing eagerly as the other brother turned his head the other direction, most likely in shame.

"You should probably take a shower, hot water." Gilbert concluded, pulling away from the American. "Your skin is way too pale and even with your shirt on, I could probably see that bruise from a mile away. If it's still there when you come out, I'll give you some ice."

Alfred sighed, stepping in the direction of where Gilbert was pointing, though it was obvious where the bathroom was. He didn't think that the panel would hit him that hard, the pneumonia was expected, he just hated showing off injuries like this. "Yeah, yeah, do you have any spare clothes you could lend me?" Alfred asked, pointing at his own shirt. It was as wet as his jacket, not meant to be trudging in the rain with.

"Yeah, I've got some upstairs. I'll put them in front of the door for you when you've finished."

"Sweet. Thanks man." He said, walking away from the two with his hand waving back at them tiredly. Seriously, it was really lucky for him that Gilbert was so considerate.

The brothers went back to silence as he disappeared, an uneasy ambience amongst them. Ludwig rubbed the tiny mug he held between his fingers, looking deep into its watery contents. The rain splattered on the windows behind them, the fire seeping into the dry wood it was fed creaking right besides him. It felt strange, sitting here together after such a long time. He had planned what he was going to say, what he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the strength to. The money and effort he poured into finding a way together is indescribable in amount, he was willing to sacrifice anything just to be here, sitting at this table with him. And now he was, sharing a cup of tea deep into the night, unsure of when he'll eventually have to depart from his remaining family again. ' _The thought of leaving him again.. It..'_ He clenched the mug tighter, a regretful look on his face. ' _I should've fought harder that court day. I should've tried to reach out for him more. I should've taken his place. I should've-'_

"Jeez, you both have terrible attitudes today." A voice popped up besides him, taking a deep breath out of exasperation. "You two should both be relishing your first hundred years, not spending them sulking around an old house like this!"

He snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look his brother in the eye. Gilbert stared back in return, placing his head on his hand in confusion. "I guess you two have changed after me not seeing you guys for a while. Especially that uh.. Your eyepatch. I don't remember you liking pirates a lot when you were younger West."

Ludwig wanted to ask what he meant by the first statement, but the strange nickname seemed to have struck his interests more. "West?" He repeated, feeling it awkwardly come from his own voice.

"Well, technically you are the west part of Germany, I'm the east. It makes sense right?" He asked, a grin prancing happily on his face.

As much as the new name felt weird, he didn't have the heart to argue about changing it. "I suppose it does." He murmured, drinking a bit of his tea. "And you're right. I don't like pirates. So if you would not call me that again, I'd appreciate it."

The Prussian stared at him, a bit perplexed. His eyes bored into the soggy black leather eyepatch he wore, looking at it worriedly. The last time he saw that eye was back on the trial day. And he had a solid memory of how gory and bloody it looked. It sent chills up his spine, just thinking about it. A dry scar ran right through where his covered eye should be, a thick white line visibly there between the healed skin. He stared at it, displeased by how much it stood out. Even if it was a serious injury, it should have disappeared after a year at least. It only made him wonder if it was a normal injury or not. "Is your eye okay?" He blurted out, reaching out for his face.

Ludwig flinched back, his brother's hesitating hand left floating in mid-air. His eyes averted from his, a guilty expression on his face. He mumbled out, heavy feelings weighing on his heart. "It's not as if I want to wear this, brother. But, you do have a right to know."

Gilbert didn't object to him, as he watched intently onwards. His brother pulled a string out, unraveling the eyepatch before him. He placed it on the table besides them, revealing the discolored eye. The Prussian stared at it, the bright crazy purple pupil that belonged to his captor, swirling in his own brother's eye. It clashed terribly with his own original stormy cyan eye, obviously out of place. A part of him felt sick, looking at it and being reminded of that dickhead. Another just solely pitied his brother, the humiliation on his face was unbearable.

"Bruder.." He mumbled quietly, rain overshadowing his voice almost. It hurt to see Ludwig anguished, unable to look him in the eye. He really didn't know what to say.

"I.. I never thought this day would come." Gilbert started, standing up from his chair.

The German looked at him strangely, finally glancing back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I never thought it'd be my own brother to beat my awesomeness!" He exclaimed, slinging his arm around Ludwig roughly, placing their heads close together. "Oh to be betrayed like this, especially with such an awesome looking scar!" The Prussian placed a hand over his head dramatically, as if feigning death, speaking his monologue. "I can't believe that you've turned into a pirate since the last time I saw you."

"I told you not to call me that."

"But even then," Gilbert continued, ignoring his brother's annoyed comment. He moved to the half emptied satchel on the table, putting his hand into it. "Nothing is as awesome as your pumpkin pie!" He suspensefully pulled out a small pie, marveling at the food as Ludwig just chuckled softly on the side.

The sight of seeing the German start to laugh, warmed his heart. He didn't seem to like talking about his eye much, and it was fine if he didn't. The change of topic seemed much appreciated by the two.

"So you knew?" He said, laughing slightly at his brother's change in expression.

"Of course I knew, you can't hide something like this from me!" The Prussian declared gleefully, unwrapping the tin foil to take a closer look. Thankfully, it didn't seem wrecked in the plane crash, probably since the German was guarding it in his lap the entire time during the flight.

Ludwig exhaled a breath of amusement, walking over to the satchel as well. "You didn't even notice that I brought you something else?" He said, a whimsical tone on his voice. He pulled out three bags, one containing brown colored bottles, one that gave off a sweet fruity smell, and one that smelled.. it smelled like flowers. The sound of glass clashing together processed through his brother's ear. Gilbert's face lit up as he took a look in the first bag and grabbed out one of the four bottles in there.

"Beer!" He shouted, eyes sparkling brighter than before. His attention focused on the second bag, spotting what seemed to be mini berliners in there, stuffed with strawberry jam. And finally, he opened the third bag, delighted to the sight of two small boxes of chamomile tea. He turned to Ludwig, a large dopey smile on his face like a kid who just got an overload of presents on Christmas day. "You truly know me well, Westy!"

"I figured that your insomnia issue wasn't very well treated here, since I could see your house lights still on from the other side even past 12'." He picked up the mug that his brother gave him, looking at the sad pieces of tea leaves in there. "And judging by the tea you have here, I assume that I was correct."

"Oh bruder, you have no idea." Gilbert groaned, hurriedly filling a kettle with water. "It's been so boring here!"

Ludwig grunted in response, taking a seat at the table. "I wasn't too sure on what to bring you, so I may have brought quite a bit of sweets."

"Lucky for you, I love sweets, and pie!" The prussian yelled excitedly, carrying the small pie in his hands to the kitchen.

The German sat there with a small smile on his face as he watched his brother cut himself a large slice, and a secondary slice. He sighed in exasperation as he got back up again to join his brother in the kitchen, he was looking forward to seeing his reaction to the pastries, the past memories resurfacing as Gilbert praised the pie with the best of compliments. Oh how he missed nights like these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's the author! Sorry for the filler chapter, I wanted to create a bond between the two characters, but the story will be moving onwards from the next chapter. Personally, I'm very excited for the next one, very excited. But it is finals week and the next chapter will be pretty important so I might be delayed. But I'll try my best and produce it asap while keeping it's quality. Stay classy and much love.


	18. A/N Important question that will effect the story!

Hey readers! Thanks for clicking, I know some people don't read the author notes and I appreciate the time you took to click this.

But anywho, I recently ran upon an idea that I'd like to try here.

I place a lot of time and effort cranking these chapters out, despite my classes but they really do bring me joy to write. Think of it as a stress reliever for me.

And as you can see from the title, I have a question for you all.

Would you guys like it if I put a Deleted Scenes series at the end of this fic, or maybe as a separate story?

I came up with some scenes I kinda wanted to implement into the story, but I couldn't because it just became irrelevant. But with the Deleted Scenes bit, I get an excuse to write and scheme plots more, and you guys get more content!

Who know, if any of you guys get some ideas and scenarios that you brewed up for this fic, I can put it in the Deleted Scenes area (with proper credit of course).

Idk, just a fun idea I thought of. Comment or message if you agree to the concept. It won't intervene with the story in anyway, I'll just store ideas on the side and write them when I complete this fic.


	19. Doomed

_East Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_6:48 AM_

A peachy light colored scarf flew behind that man that led the group of soldiers to the grassy field. His thick furry boot splashed into a murky dull puddle as he and his men surrounded the totaled plane that seemed almost as if it had sunken into the ground. Soft murmurs of debate and questions encircled the area as the thick smell of smoke and softened mud due to the rain mixed together. Ivan inhaled the chilling air, closing his eyes as he did as he thought of how to approach this situation. A cold, blunt expression appeared onto his face, as he reopened them again, one that his soldiers were all too familiar with. They rolled lazily upwards, a puffy white mist escaping from his sigh. Even though it had just rained, the sky above them was still a light diluted grey. There wasn't a sign of sunlight, not even a small ray broke out from the impenetrable clouds. He took a step closer to the entrances of the plane that were left open, a pool of rainwater formed on both sides of the cockpit. From there, he could spot umbrellas floating aimlessly in there, left from the two who had been inside the plane.

A wide, almost amused smile appeared on his face suddenly, chuckling to himself as he picked up the small flimsy umbrella from the radio operator's side. It swung from his finger pitifully as pallid droplets on the thin plastic slowly dripped down. How funny it would've been to see the panicked American rush off into the rain, soaked from head to toe with nothing to protect him. ' _Hopefully, he hasn't caught a cold due to this._ ' He thought to himself, shaking the water off the umbrella. It would be a nice gesture to return this to him, especially since he had left it here so carelessly for Ivan to find.

Slowly, he brought the umbrella up to his face, staring at it as if in thought. It wasn't like he had expected this plan to go flawlessly. Of course, there were definitely large chances of it failing and it could've gone south if he wasn't careful. But he definitely didn't expect this outcome of events, not as if he was complaining though. The umbrella made a _pop_ sound as he unfolded it, visibly seeing that he was far too large to fit under it without getting partially wet on one side. ' _At least I'll get to see him.._ ' He said to himself, picturing the American's face in shock, to see him standing there at the door. A dark smile grew in his expression, some sinister shadow laying behind it.

' _How fun this will be._ '

\----------------------------------------

_East Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_6:53 AM_

"You what?" Alfred yelled, causing the German to wince before him. His eyes looked like they were bulging from their sockets, as he tightly gripped onto the edge of the table, sounds of cracking wood reaching Gilbert's ears.

"Hey, that's my only table! Don't break it!" He yelled from across the kitchen, ignoring the ruckus between the two younger countries. He huffed softly to himself, turning back to the sink as he brushed off the outburst.

The American begrudgingly spared it's already nonexistent quality from his wrath, but his anger was still deadshot focused on Ludwig. The malice that stood behind the American almost felt similar to the tone in his voice from the airplane landing incident. "How could you not have thought of a plan? How the hell are we supposed to get to the meeting?" He seethed. Was he seriously talking to the Ludwig he talked to only a month before? The one who gave him a lecture on health and carrying weapons? "We've probably already missed our flight, and now you're telling me that you don't know how you're going to get us back?"

That sentence seemed to get Gilbert's attention, the concentration he held on washing the dishes, suddenly breaking. He looked back at them, with a shocked stare as he held a bowl in his hands nervously. "Wait what do you mean?"

Alfred let out a deep sigh, pinching his tired eyes together as he crumbled down onto the table in exasperation. There was a bad feeling that was keeping him up last night, nagging him as he slept, but he just ignored it. Was this his punishment for not being paranoid?

"Apparently, your brother hadn't thought of a way to get out of East Berlin when he 'landed' us here. No backup plane, no money left to bribe the guards, no bulletproof vests, nothing." He ranted, looking back at the pale-faced Prussian.

The face and complexion of what he could describe as a sheet-white ghost that looked like it just died a second time.

"Ah.." He mumbled under his breath, face palming as he set the bowl down.

"We have to go, seriously." The American said, standing up from his chair hurriedly.

"There is no need to panic, it wouldn't matter if we're late by a day or two." Ludwig said, finally speaking up. He seemed to not notice the burning glare the American had given him when he said that. "Since it rained last night, we could use that as an excuse for our late arrival."

"No, no we can't." Alfred argued back firmly, slamming his fist onto the table, as Gilbert's painful gasps of the splinters growing out of the cracked wood were drowned out by the American's voice. "That dickhead will know that we're here within hours from when we left that damn house, minutes even. We have to get back to the west side before he sends some more of his spies to hunt us down."

Ludwig stood up from the table, preparing to battle the rage that the American had brought out before feeling a swift hand on his shoulder. Confused, he turned, being met by his brother shaking his head at him.

"He's right." Gilbert stated, Alfred nodding vigorously. "As a person who lived in the hellhole of what that guy calls his home, he has spies everywhere, especially those who follow any country that are near him and his land. You guys are dead if you continue to stay here." He sighed, rubbing his temple in dejection, his voice dripping with regret. "I knew I should've sent you two back as soon as I saw you. Keeping you here for even just a night has put both of you in danger, I'm so-"

"Don't blame yourself for this, all you did was give us food and shelter." Alfred interrupted, a comforted expression appearing on the Prussian's face as he did. "But it'd be great if you could help us pack some stuff while we got our belongings. It's just too bad that this sweet reunion was cut short."

"Yeah, what a shame." Gilbert mumbled under his breath as he turned back to the kitchen, preparing some bread and salami for the two.

The leftover two seemed to connect eye contact, before the American broke away and headed to the fireplace. Ludwig couldn't help but sigh, as he too left to gather his things. Ever since last night, Alfred had seemed dismissive of him, though he couldn't see why he'd still be this upset. Of course, some anger was to be expected, but he seemed thoroughly upset rather than the usual happy demeanor he always held.

His hands roughly grabbed his leather satchel as he put some of the keepsakes he had gathered from around the house. Who knew when he'd be able to come back, or even see his brother again? He had to spend an uncomfortable portion of his savings on this trip, and he was only able to spend a single night. The interaction he had between his brother just passed by so suddenly. And now he was leaving directly in the morning, without any more time left to spend with Gilbert. He stopped putting the items back into his satchel, feeling a heavy weight of dismay sitting atop his shoulders as he looked down at the antique he held in his hand with a disheartened gleam in his eyes. Wasn't it reasonable to feel a little bit disappointed? Especially since the American was the one to convince them to leave so abruptly?

"Alright! I got my clothes, and a rifle from the closet!" Alfred yelled from behind, snapping Ludwig out of his thought process.

"Here. I have some boiled potatoes from last night and salt in a bag along with some meat. It should last you two a day if you're planning on a stakeout." The Prussian hurriedly said, handing the American the bag of food.

Alfred took it gratefully, leaving out the fact that he was planning on jumping the fence through the main entryway. Chances were, he was going to be in some really intense pain for a couple of days, but that was a good enough price to pay to get out of here. All he hopes for is that it won't slow him down or that he won't leave a trail of blood. His hand fell onto the rifle that he placed on the table. Just thinking about what could happen, what he was about to do made him feel nauseous, nervous even.

He straightened his jacket once more, as the sounds of the ticking clocks surrounding him grew louder and louder. His pupils twitched from his watch to the world around him, anticipation and fear rising in his mind. The longer they stood there, the more worried he got. 

' _It'll be fine though._ ' He thought to himself, desperately trying to comfort his mind. ' _Ivan will be too busy with greeting guests, he couldn't possibly come here personally right?_ ' He asked. In all honesty, he couldn't be too sure. Another reason they had to leave, now.

"Hey 'Schmidt! We have to go! Now!" He yelled again, the sound of his voice sounding increasingly more strained and frantic the more he spoke.

Ludwig turned his head to the impatient man, closing the satchel in his hands. "I understand, please just-"

* _Knock, knock, knock!_ The door shook beneath the fist of whoever was outside.

Alfred turned to the window, distorted silhouettes of men standing directly on the other side. Sweat trickled down his neck as he could finally hear the clearness of his heart slowing down, his breath turning shallow. A shadow was cast from beneath the gap of the door, a large figure standing on the steps. The sound of his heart pumped loudly through his ears, flowing in his veins as he could feel his chest start to hurt from how hard it palpated against his ribs.

The Prussian looked on, as he was closest to the window, his mouth trembling slightly as he muttered out a gritted, "Scheisse.." The American turned to him, as he could see the fear in his expression. ' _Were they too late?_ '

"This is the KGB, Gilbert Beildschmidt are you there?" A voice yelled from the outside. It was one that was unfamiliar, a thick Russian accent coated it, as it stood there unrelenting.

Neither of the three men standing in the house made a sound as they all continued to stare at the door in silence. Gilbert looked at Alfred, immediately pointing at the stairs. Alfred's hand clutched tightly onto the rifle, slowly picking it up as his throat collapsed onto itself. The look on his face hardened as he stood there, unmoving despite the Prussian's obvious intended instructions. He was going to get out, he had to. He was getting out of this damn city one way or another, even if it meant hurting some people.

Gilbert shook his head frightfully, waving his hands urgently. trying to warn him. However, the American slowly moved towards the door, turning a blind eye to the Prussian's desperate efforts of warning him.

His steps were unevenly placed, like a baby giraffe taking its first steps. Words in his head repeated themselves over and over again as they spun, mocking him. ' _I will escape. I will escape. I will escape. I will-_ '

A hand quickly latched onto him, the presence of a lingering shiver in the hand making itself clear, before quickly disappearing again. Alfred knew who was behind him, he didn't try to look back to see if it was who he thought it was. Even then, the thoughts kept whispering to him, needling itself through his ears. He didn't care who he had to hurt anymore. If it meant he had a chance of getting out, so he wouldn't have to see the smug bustard's face, he could hardly give a shit to anyone who tried to get in his way.

"Don't.." That shaky, raspy voice begged him.

Alfred paused suddenly, turning towards him. The Prussian spoke softly, with this anguished, almost pathetic look in his eyes. It felt so awful seeing him like this, so terrified and shaken. His lips quivered, as he mouthed out his next sentence, the tone of his once loud and boastful-like exterior being so drastically reduced to this fearful man, standing behind him, trying his best to bargain.

" _He_ is here.." He whispered, pausing on the first word.

He watched as Alfred's baby blues dilated back in shock, his mouth dropping open a bit as he sucked in a sharp gasp. ' _Fuck.._ ' he thought, any other thoughts vanishing in a flash. 

' _It didn't make sense. Why, why the hell is he here?_ ' 

He could've swore he said it out loud, that he responded to Gilbert, but even he knew that his mouth was still agape, unable to utter a single sentence. ' _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ ' he cried to himself, stomach plummeting as the door shook once more.

* _KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!_

Alfred broke from his shocked stance, reeling away from the door as quickly as possible. The Prussian didn't make any move to keep him where he was standing, as it became evident on how out of focus and weak his hold on him really was. The rifle dropped from the American's hands, clattering on to the wooden floor as he stumbled unsteadily backwards a couple of steps. Shadows exchanged themselves as a new person overtook the position in front of the door.

"Gilbert. You're in there aren't you?" A childish voice asked, replacing the voice from before. A chill rush down Alfred's spine as he recognized it, able to feel every nerve of his body turn cold. "I can see you all from your windows." It started to hum sing-songedly, as the rusty old doorknob started to rattled irritatingly.

And there it was. The prolonged entrance of the man who they all dreaded. Not to mention what he had said. To run now, would be utterly foolish. None of them were ready to be shot, or worst of all, to be personally captured and greeted by Ivan.

"I'm not a very patient person, you can understand." It continued.

After a moment, Gilbert continued to walk towards the door, carefully unlocking the knob. The both of them could see the hesitance in his hands, as the door finally jiggled open.

Cold air blasted from the opening, inside marching in a pair of muddy shoes, much to the Prussian's dismay. They thudded against the wood harshly, scraping on to the floor, as if purposely trying to leave marks in their path. It paused after a couple of steps, an entire squad of men revealed to be standing behind Ivan. He took off his hat, flinging it onto the coat stand, acting as if he owned the place. Alfred's face turned wry as he backed away even further. Actually now that he thought about it, he did own the place.

His movements seemed to catch the Russian's attention, as his eye darted at him. His expression changed, seemingly enjoying the look and visible chagrin on his face. A smile curling up to his ears, one that you could only imagine a devil making as he stepped towards him, stomping on the gun beneath his feet. Before the American could react or say something, he pulled out a small, flimsy umbrella from behind his back, offering it to him with this terrifying grin on his lips. Alfred's eyes slowly widened as he recognized it from the night before. He looked back up at Ivan, realization finally striking him. ' _This plan of escape was doomed from the very beginning._ '

"I believe you dropped this, _Fedya_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'll be honest, there was supposed to be a lot more content but you can already see how long this got. If I added anymore, I'd be delayed a week at best. I feel bad for leaving you guys at a cliffhanger though, but it's interesting right? Just you wait till next chapter, it'll be REAL fun for you to read. Stay classy and much love.


	20. Deal

_East Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_7:08 AM_   
  


"I believe you dropped this, _Fedya_." Ivan whispered, a gleeful expression on his face as he offered it towards him. The brothers' nervous eyes watched them as Alfred stood there stunned and seemingly disgusted by his presence.

It swung innocently before him, though the American made no gestures to take it from his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. That question could wait for later. He glared at the umbrella, as if it was mocking him for giving himself away due to his irresponsibility. "Ivan." He mumbled through gritted teeth. That bastard was really enjoying the attention he was milking from them, with that grand entrance and all.

The Russian smiled brighter at the mention of his name, even if there was a resentful tone in his voice. It didn't matter to him though, he finally got him to say his name after all. With a brighter mood, he placed a hand behind the American's lower back, pulling him in closer so the others wouldn't hear. "I did say we'd see each other right? Don't tell me you're that foolish for me to have to repeat it a third time?" He said softly to him.

An icy feeling prickled Alfred's skin as he felt the air around him go cold. "Get the hell off of me." He yelled, annoyed, pushing him away as he dusted off his jacket. Though much to his disappointment, the smell of ash and sweat lingered on him. As much as he had been trying to deny this fact, he figured that Ivan had something planned up his sleeve. Ignoring the note that Ivan had mentioned in meeting back in France could've possibly have been the worst mistake ever. And now because of that, he stood before him unprepared, and caught in his trap.

But out of all the things he could've done, he didn't expect him to bring other people into this mess of theirs. His eyes traced back to Gilbert, who stood there on guard with a wet towel gripped tightly in his hand and an apron still on. His cloth apron looked like it would tear if pulled hard enough, and compared to all the men outside, he might as well walk out there with a sign on his chest that said 'Shoot me'. Despite knowing the type of person the Prussian was for decades, and his stubborn attitude when it came to giving up, something about him standing there felt different from all the other times he stood in the face of danger.

His eyes were wary with paranoia, and he was standing in such a defensive stance that the American has never seen him hold before. From his head to his feet, there wasn't a drop of that carefree attitude that he was so familiar with. If anything, he looked afraid. Afraid of what the Russian was up to.

Alfred looked back up to the towering man before him, a slow trickle of sweat running down his neck. That smiling poker face that he always held stared back at him, as if he was trying to read his mind. He clenched his teeth tightly together, frustration pumping in his veins. It pained him to see Gilbert in such a powerless state, but it was the only thing that he could do now. None of them had the power to do anything. All they could do was to pray that Ivan wouldn't unleash his weapons on them. And he knew full well, as much as it hurt to admit this, that he should be afraid of the Russian as well.

"How ironic for you to be the cold one today. Even after I came all this way to see you." He pouted woefully. The umbrella made a soft _tap_ as he gently placed it beneath his hands, his body leaning onto it as Alfred backed away a bit. His eyes glinted a bright reddish purple as they stared maliciously into the American's thinning pupils. "Or are you just not happy to see me?"

' _Well, what do you think smartass?_ ' He thought to himself. In reality, he knew better than to utter any of what he wanted to say, even though it was awfully tempting. But his high on adrenaline that seeing Ivan gave him made his mind sober on knowing how to choose his words wisely. Too bad that all his words were mainly insults and would lead him to a trip to the hospital, probably one in Russia no doubt.

"Ivan." A voice interrupted them abruptly. They turned their heads suddenly, watching as someone descended from the staircase with a brown satchel slung across their shoulder. Ludwig seemed to have tightened the eyepatch around his head, keeping his posture straight like a professional businessman. Alfred cursed in his mind, seeing that piercing gaze he was currently maintaining with Ivan. His eyes were sharpened firmly onto him, pupils dilated back with a hidden rage like a growling tiger. As subtle he usually was with his emotions and feelings, everyone inside the small home could feel that murderous intensity inside him.

"I didn't know that my brother was having guests so early in the morning." He said calmly, though he sure as hell didn't look like it.

' _What the hell are you doing?_ ' He thought to himself fiercely, shooting him a warning glance, which was quickly spotted and ignored by the German as he continued to walk towards them. The American stood there in disbelief, noticing the dismay on Ivan's face upon being interrupted. ' _Is this what Gilbert must've felt like?_ '

The Russian turned away from him for a moment, a sly smile reappearing back on his face. "I didn't know that your brother was harboring any guests of his either! What a coincidence to see each other here."

' _Coincidence my ass._ ' Alfred thought bitterly.

Ludwig came up to him, offering a handshake of perhaps a hopefully peaceful greeting, only to be somewhat disappointed when Ivan didn't respond back. The Russian turned back to Alfred, leaving the German standing there rather disgruntled but he didn't say much.

"Speaking of guests, wasn't there something about that in our contracts?" He asked in a clueless tone.

Alfred cringed at the mention of the agreement, but shot back immediately. "Gilbert's not supposed to leave your premises either. Yet here he is, all the way in East Berlin." He was in no position to negotiate, but he could always try. "Let's just call it even."

Ivan placed a hand on his chin, as if he was thinking about the American's offer. He let out a low hum for a moment or two, his answer desperately being anticipated by Alfred. After a while, he said "No thank you." in that same tone he always carried.

"Huh?"

"No thank you" He repeated again. His head rolled on to his shoulder, tapping the ground with the umbrella incessantly as he gazed into the confused young man's eyes. "Do you have any proof Gilbert was ever here? Any photos? Recordings?"

Silence was the only thing that responded to Ivan's questions. Alfred stood there, unable to say a word. ' _No. No, of course he had no proof. What was even the point of trying to haggle with this man?_ ' He questioned himself, biting down hard on his lip.

There was a smug smile that curled up to his eyes on Ivan's cheeks. "Why don't we discuss this a bit more privately? I think you've humiliated yourself enough my dear."

Alfred stiffened at the pet name, past memories passing through that dam of emotions he had built. "Don't fucking call me dear." He grumbled beneath his breath, walking towards the exit of the home. The brothers stared at him, perhaps trying to read what the situation was between them.

Ivan hummed in response as he followed him outside, the men who were still there, waiting for an order. The American walked right past them, making a beeline for one of the alleyways that line the many homes on the street. If there was anything he could control anymore, at least let it be where they were going to talk. He couldn't bear letting anyone see him like this.

The cold air hit him harshly, though he ignored it. ' _What am I going to do?_ ' He thought worriedly to himself as he placed his back against the building behind him. Should he just escape now? He turned to the end of the alley, which was blocked off by a wide imposing brick wall. ' _Too tall.._ ' Thinking about it now, he probably wouldn't have been able to run if they were in an alley as barricaded as this. He just didn't want anyone to see him in such a.. Shameful situation.

"How have you been, since we last spoke?" A calm, almost nonchalant voice asked, the body closing off any entrance of light to the alley.

He really took his sweet ass time walking over here. "You mean the month where I almost had a bullet implanted in my head? Well, what the hell do you think?" He sarcastically said out loudly. Even if he couldn't fight Ivan here, he was still allowed to throw passive aggressive comments his way.

"Ah strange, I told him to aim at your new friend."

For a moment, he opened his mouth to snap back at him, but shut it begrudgingly. He needed to stay calm. He huffed softly, turning away from him.

"Oh? Not going to deny it?" Ivan said with a cocky expression on his face. Alfred still stayed silent. "I have noticed that you two have grown quite close these past few days I suppose." He said absent-mindedly, pulling a folder out from his coat.

"What do you mean by 'close'?" Alfred asked, turning back to the Russian.

Ivan just smiled at him, as if he was waiting for him to ask him that. "Lying isn't a good look for you." He remarked off handedly, taking a look at the folder again, muttering under his breath as he selectively picked out some photos. "You'll make me sad if you're not going to tell the truth."

"I already told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

The Russian sighed, feigning disappointment as he handed him a messy cluster of tan and greyed photos. "Have a look at these."

Warily, Alfred looked at them, then right back up at Ivan. Curiosity was itching at him, and he really had no other option. His nose scrunched up as he saw the Russian's smug smile. Quickly, he snatched the photographs from his hands, flipping through them as his face changed into one of horror. "What the.." He mumbled under his breath.

A chuckle escaped from Ivan's mouth as he watched the American's expression morph before him in disbelief. Alfred's hands shook as he looked through the pictures over again. The first photo showed him and Ludwig sitting down for a beer on the couch. The second, it was them giving each other a much needed hug. The third, it was them at a bar getting a drink together. And so on, and so forth. All the pictures just had them together, in different settings of the city, being all friendly and such with each other. Just the thought, no, knowing the fact that he was under such strict surveillance enraged him. But the reason why Ivan was showing him this, why he went to such an effort to do this was still unknown to him.

"Okay, so he's my friend. And apparently, you're still a psychopath which doesn't surprise me." He exclaimed, waving the photos in the air carelessly. "What difference does it make?" It felt like this was going to go somewhere he would rather hope it didn't.

Ivan finally broke from his somewhat fake exterior. A smile blossomed from his fallen mask, growing wider and more delusional from anything the American had ever seen before. "Oh?" He mused, chillingly taking a step towards him. "You don't think the other nations will be as relaxed as you are now when they learn of this new relationship, do you?"

The American glowered at him, looking at the photos and then back at him. As much as he had been trying to control his anger up to this point, it wasn't looking too well on Ivan's side. "Are you trying to blackmail me?" He asked, baffled.

"My, my Fedya." He mumbled softly, suddenly grabbing the wrist that held the photos. The American winced, glaring up at him. "Be careful with your tone. Don't forget who has an army here, and who doesn't."

"Tch." He grumbled softly.

"What do you think would happen if they found these photos at our next meeting? So many of them too.. Especially this one." he continued, plucking the particular photo of them giving each other a hug.

Alfred bit down on his cheek as the Russian began to wave it in front of him. Ivan had a point. He didn't want to relive another scenario of the argument he had with his family back in France. And that was only for going to Germany. The photo had inked time stamps on the left hand corner, which made his neck itch. No one would believe that they got so friendly with each other in such a short amount of time, even if it was the truth. Their relationship just seemed.. odd. Involving himself with Ludwig was already so negatively taken at the last summit meeting. Imagine what their reactions would be if they saw these photos.

He could feel his stomach drop at the thought of it. Would people start to avoid him? Ludwig managed to make himself feared and hated by so many, wouldn't the same thing happen to him if he wasn't careful? ' _The perfect image he had cultivated for himself, crumbling because of this?_ ' He had just befriended half of Europe, he was so close to finishing his mission. ' _So unbelievably close._ ' If anyone misinterpreted those photos, thinking he was taking Ludwig's side over everyone else's, all hell would break loose.

"You don't even give me hugs, and I'm part of the Allies." The Russian lamented satirically, not noticing the grim mood intertwining with the air around him. "Ah, I feel so-"

"Stop it." Alfred sighed, pulling his wrist back towards him. This was it. He lost. Ivan looked on in surprise as the American continued. "I get it, you don't have to rub it in, every five seconds." He flattened the wrinkles from his sleeve, avoiding eye contact with the other.

A terrible feeling was welled up inside of him, like he had eaten something that was rottened. His stomach was tied up into knots, empty thoughts bouncing around his head. There was this, unexplainable numbness he felt enveloped in. Like he was finally starting to sink into that overwhelmingly dark ocean he had been so desperately trying to swim out of. That final murky light of the water's surface disintegrating before him. After all of this back and forth fighting and snide comments, this was the eventual outcome. Pathetically accepting defeat, unable to do anything in a muddy alleyway like this. Wasn't it sad?

He exhaled softly, putting a hand onto his face tiredly. He needed to lie down. "What do you want from me? Just say it." He mumbled under his breath, trying his best to keep his composure.

"Straight to the point da?" Ivan inquired, laughing a bit. A sly grin appeared on his face. He pulled the American in, placing a hand out in front of him. "Why don't you visit my room after the meeting? We could discuss it there more. We haven't seen each other in such a long time.." He mumbled, voice growing sultry. One of his hands trailed slowly down to his hip, them being much closer than before. Their foreheads were almost touching, his shadow looming over the American's shrinking stance.

Instinctively, he placed his hand onto the Russian's chest placing little force behind it as his mind snapped back to the fact that he still had to be careful. But that only prompted him to pull him in even more. Alfred could feel an uneasiness in his guts. The tone, the hand on his back, that odd glint in his eye? He didn't want to think of what he may be hinting at, it made him cringe. ' _But isn't this the better outcome?'_ At least he wasn't asked to leak any government secrets.

He shook his head to himself, pushing away his thoughts. "Shouldn't you be at the meeting right now? Especially since you're the host?" He asked, guiding the conversation away. What happened to his dignity as a man?

Ivan frowned a bit, not receiving the answer to his offer yet, but responded nonetheless. "We had rescheduled it to November third actually. There were some unforeseen matters that we had to attend to." He said ominously.

"You.. You planned this all didn't you?"

The smile reappeared back onto his face. "I didn't think you'd come with Ludwig, but I suppose it's all the better that you did. Originally, I was going to make you come to me by holding those two captive." He sighed disappointingly. "Oh, I would've loved to see the shame in your eyes as you broke our agreement on your own terms."

The American stood there in silence, staring at the hand held out before him. A part of him wanted to scoff to himself in amusement. Never did he think that the phrase, 'Never make a deal with the devil.' could describe any situation he would come across. Yet here he was. He was willing to sacrifice anything for his reputation to stay intact. Even if that meant doing this. This was indeed the better outcome.

' _I should_ _be grateful that is all he is asking of me._ '

Begrudgingly, he placed his hand into Ivan's, grasping it regretfully.

"Alright. I'll come." He said bleakly, a dull grey glimmer settling into his eyes.

That smile on Ivan's face widened as he pulled Alfred in tightly for a hug. "Ah.. I'm so glad you agreed." He mumbled closely to his ear. The American cringed at his icy cold skin brushing against his, but stood there limp, like a faceless mannequin on display. Unlike the other times he knew he was in danger, none of his thoughts were blaring in his head, nothing sounded coherent to him anymore. The smell of ash and sweat plugged his nose swallowing him and his surrounding. As he was embraced in that hug, he could feel his soul being engulfed in an inescapable despair.

' _What have I done?_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I do want to clarify that anything that the characters do here is not something I condone, have a kink for, or do myself. If you think that the character Ivan is not a likable person, I guess that just means that I did what I was aiming for? Looking at history, he would probably be a dickish cunt. For those who think Ivan may be *hinting* at what you think he's hinting at, you're right unfortunately. Consent is important, and should not be forced (that's gross af). Stay classy and much love.


	21. Anger

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_October 31, 1950_

_8:34 PM_   
  


Crickets echoed into the empty night, an uncomfortable stillness of the house buzzing in their ears. Alfred walked around the kitchen with a kettle in his hands, placing it onto the stove stoically. Ludwig stared at him in silence, waiting for him to finally speak up. Though, judging by his demeanor and overall lack of joy, he wasn't expecting much.

The American pulled out the tea set from the box, taking out the three canisters. They were actually a bit small now that he took a closer look at them. Because of the packaging, he thought that they would've been bigger. A sigh left his lips as he disappointedly picked up one of the tea canisters. He held it in his hand carelessly, taking a moment to realize the name ' _Arthur K_ _ **.**_ ' was engraved in a smooth font beneath it. His eyes furrowed a bit in confusion, flipping it over to see a deep caramel colored sticker labeled in bolded letters, ' _English Breakfast_ '. Were all of them like this? Softly, he placed it down and reached for the cherry red sticker, titled ' _Hibiscus_ ' flipping it over to see ' _Francis B._ ' on the bottom as well. He shut his eyes tiredly, a small smile reappearing back onto his face. He didn't think that Arthur was being serious when he said they all chose out a tea flavor for him. After all that happened, he almost forgot who he had by his side.

He picked the English Breakfast back up, popping open the lid. If Arthur really went through all the trouble to get him a gift like this from the family, it was only fair if he tried his first. A small folded note that covered the tea leaves fell onto the counter, catching the American by surprise. What was the purpose of leaving a note? Tea couldn't be that hard to brew right?

' _Dearest Alfred,_

_As you can tell by the description of this container, this is one of many black teas. Usually I'd prefer this by itself, but knowing you and your taste for sweets, the bitter flavor may not be to your liking. However, this mixes surprisingly well with milk and sugar if you add the right ratio and contains caffeine as you had so earnestly described as a necessity in the drinks you favor. This isn't too bad of a tea in my opinion, and I believe that you would find as pleasing as I do._

_P.S. Please remove the tea leaves after brewing from your cup. Last time I served you tea, you ate the leaves and choked on it when you realized it wasn't tasty. Do not make the same mistake._

_Signed, Arthur Kirkland_ '

The American placed down the piece of paper, feeling the blood rush into his cheeks as he crumpled it beneath his palms. Really, Arthur didn't have to bring up that memory. He didn't mean to bite on the tea leaves, it just sort of happened.

But he supposed that it was better that this tea had some caffeine. He turned the can over, reading the directions closely. It turned out that he plans on sleeping late tonight. Because of Ivan's unprompted.. arrangement, it's been the only thing he had been able to keep his mind on since they got back. The only reason why he was staying up tonight was because he knew that it'll be hard falling asleep with that bastard's words and that fucking smile he always had on annoying him whenever he closed his eyes. His jacket sat in the washing machine, waiting to be dried. Ivan's smell lingered on it even after he finally pulled away. Since this was planned out, their flights were actually moved to 7' at night tomorrow. From there, they'll land in Leningrad and then attend the meeting. And then after the meeting..

Alfred unpromptly slammed the canister down, cringing at the thought. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to. Suffering such a terrible loss to Ivan, but why was this his punishment? His fingers wrapped themselves tightly onto it, unbeknownst to him of how much pressure he was placing on its weak aluminum body. God, he could've picken anything to take from him. Secret documents, inside information, money. Why did he have to do this to him? Did Ivan want to see him sacrifice his pride that badly?

An annoyed sigh broke through the sheer silence of the home, as a ticked off voice followed right after. "What is your problem?"

Almost immediately, the American snapped from his state, turning his head towards the man across the room. He held a newspaper in his hands, but his attention seemed to have been diverted from it a long time ago.

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Alfred released the somewhat crushed canister from his grip and turned towards him, trying to contain his anger. He was clearly not in the mood to have any idle chatter, but he would spell it out for him if he had to. That tone alone from Ludwig was just enough to piss him off.

"What, did you think I'd be all smiles after you got us in deep shit with Ivan because you didn't plan ahead?" He grumbled through gritted teeth, really doing his best to not blow a fuse. Why was Ludwig mad at him, of all people? If anything, he should be apologizing.

The German huffed a bit, staring him down. "I never asked you to follow me America, you can not solely blame this on me."

"Then you can't just disappear off into the night, leaving me a creepy note to find in the morning either. Anyone would've followed you after reading that." He snapped back angrily, picking up one of the fragile teacups from the counter. "And all for what? To go meet your unsuspecting brother out of nowhere without any way to get back out? What were you thinking?"

"I would've faced whatever punishment he had for me regardless."

The American's mind flashed back to the alley, Ivan's ludicrous blackmail, him having to shake his hand to save both of their asses. "No you wouldn't." He barked immediately, cursing his being as soon as it left his mouth.

Ludwig looked at him strangely, slowly setting down the newspaper and removing his reading glasses in the process. By this time, Alfred had already turned his back on the German to defuse what was becoming a heated problem, but could tell that whatever he had just said may have made him more angrier than before. "What are you trying to imply?"

' _Fuck.._ ' he thought to himself, placing a hand over his head. It felt like all the blood was rushing to it, swelling up in pain. He groaned to himself, wanting to slump over the counter and lie down. "Forget it, I just have a headache."

"Answer me." Ludwig he asked, in a not so friendly tone, getting up from his seat. If anything, it sounded like he was trying to threaten him.

The teacup shivered in the American's grasp, ever so closely inching to being shattered. He turned to face him, his expression switching from tolerance to rage within seconds. "Don't fucking tell me what to do Ludwig." He yelled. He was not about to be some pushover again, twice in a row. "Order me around like that again and I will make you regret it."

"Why be so defensive? What did you and Ivan discuss in private?" Ludwig persisted, the flame of his anger only being fed more and more.

Alfred picked up a tea bag from the canister, placing it shakily into the cup, trying his best to control his twitching eye. "It's none of your business, lay off."

"If it concerns me and my brother, I think it's very much my business." He continued.

"Well it doesn't." He shouted, slowly forgetting his attempt in staying calm. The tea kettle screeched loudly at them, steam shooting from it stout. "If you hadn't gotten us in this damn mess of yours, we would be in Leningrad by now." He said, reaching for the kettle.

"Must I remind you why we were separated in the first place?"

The American let out a short laugh, throwing his head back in amusement. Ludwig stared at him, taken aback by his unusual demeanor. His voice almost seemed crazed, mental even. "Remind me? Remind me of what?" He scoffed, pouring the water into the teacup. "You having to face the consequences of your own actions? You only have yourself to blame for him being taken away."

The pot's whistling quelled as Alfred mixed the tea in angrily, thinking bitterly to himself. In the few moments of when he said that, Ludwig stood behind him silently, with his head down and his fist shaking.

Damnit, he knew. He knew it was his fault, he knew he was the one to blame. Gilbert had tried to tell him otherwise, and he tried to believe it. But in the end, the Prussian was the one who was punished for his actions. He could hear the blood pumping through his ears, as his heart beat faster. He was at fault for his brother's downfall wasn't he? But hadn't the American also said that he was in a state of circumstance? Didn't he understand that he was in pain?

"You.." He started off unsteadily.

In a world of people who used him as a scapegoat for the first war, where his allies turned a blind eye on him to not get reprimanded themselves, did no one understand? Was everyone going to abandon him again?

Ludwig placed a firm hand on the American, spinning him around to finally face him. "You've really gone to-" Only until he had done this and the words partially left his mouth did he realize what mistake he made.

His eyes widened as he spotted the teacup in the American's hand, steaming tea sloshing outwards from within it's thin walls. In that instance, they watched as time slowed down between them, unable to stop what was already in motion. The cup tipped out of balance, splashing into Alfred's chest and white in seconds, he could feel the excruciating pain

"Fuck!" He hissed, grabbing at his shirt, dropping the teacup in the process. Ludwig backed up from the splash radius as he saw it crash into the ground, fine china splinters flying everywhere. He looked back up at the American who was staring down his shirt to look at the burn mark. And judging by his grim expression, he could guess that it probably wasn't good.

His pupils were dilated back in horror, staring in shock as silence filled the gap between them. Alfred stood there with his head down, a malicious aura surrounding him.

Hesitantly, he reached out to the American, trying his best to contain his trembling voice. "Alfred.. I-I didn't mean to-"

"I said forget it." Alfred said harshly, picking his head back up. In that exact moment, Ludwig could see that any drop of empathy left in the American had vanished. That merciless look in his eye, the anger residing behind his glare looked like it would snap at any moment. He paused, just as he was commanded to, feeling him brush past him as he continued coldly. "I'm just going to head upstairs."

There was no usual 'Goodnights.' or 'Sleep well.' Just the tension between the two growing, growing enough to snap whatever semblance of a basic friendship that they had apart.

Ludwig stood there, his hands still in the air, staring horrified at the space Alfred was standing in before. The smell of tea wafted up to his nose, kitchen lights flickering for a moment. Footsteps up the staircase echoed off the walls, until it was finally followed by a silencing * _Bam!_ The crickets didn't seem as lively as they were before, filling the home with a quietness that the German had never heard of before. Slowly, he withdrew his hands to himself, placing them miserably by his side. Numbness prickled his skin as the environment around him managed to grow even more mute than before. A wave of realization washed over him as his gaze wandered down to the broken teacup on the floor. Nausea messed with his head, making his eyesight somewhat blurry. It had been so long since he had felt this way, or maybe he was too distracted to even notice.

' _Ah.. I'm alone again._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Bet y'all didn't expect this huh? I'm not trying to like single out one of these guys to be the villain tho, just think of this as two different contrasting circumstances with communication problems. This is a bit shorter than usual, shortest one I think actually. I really fell terrible for doing this to them, but we need a conflict to progress the story. I'll be back soon with the next chapter, stay classy and much love.


	22. Bitter

_West Berlin, East Germany_

_November 1, 1950_

_7:00 AM_

Morning sunlight poured into the room, as his eyes opened groggily. Groaning from the brightness, he turned his watch, reading _'7:00_ ' clearly. He sighed, letting his arm drop from the air. Even though he had slept so late last night from treating his wound, he still woke up early. Then again, he had read some articles about stress pertaining to waking up in the morning early. He laid there, uncomfortably beneath his blanket. With the combination of proper treatment and his godly-like healing abilities, he ended up with what he could only describe as a really large sunburn. It was better than a blister, but still painful as hell.

He mindlessly stared upwards, contemplating just falling back asleep. It's not like he had anywhere to go, and he'd rather sleep in to compensate for the lost sleep from last night. The flight to Leningrad was going to be long, and he didn't want some Russian stewardess spying-

* _Creak.. Flick!_

His head turned at the sound, once again being able to spot light from beneath his door. Steps descended from the staircase, irking his curiosity even further. It wasn't usual for the German to get up so early, especially since it wasn't their usual breakfast time.

For a moment, his hand moved instinctively, to check out what was wrong before stopping mid-way. His chest stung badly from the touch of the cold Berlin air, memories of just last night flooding into his mind. Letting out a small huff, he turned back into bed, facing away from the door in spite.

' _If Ludwig didn't want me to bother him, then I won't._ ' He thought to himself bitterly, folding his arms. And just as it was two nights before, the front door shut once more, leaving the home as quiet as ever.

As he pouted there, his stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him of the circumstances he was in at the moment. He had almost forgotten that because he left the kitchen so early last night, that he didn't even have the opportunity to eat anything yet. And not to mention the tea that he left out in the open. He left in such a huff that he had forgotten to close Arthur's tea canister on the way out.

' _It'll be fine right? Tea doesn't need to be concealed, you just put it in water!_ ' he tried to reassure himself though admittedly his attempt wasn't very effective. He slowly got up, wincing as his chest began to sting painfully. It would probably be okay if he just rubbed some sunscreen on it.

Gently, he unraveled the bandages, grimacing at the large splotch of red that adorned his upper chest. He didn't spend much time staring at it though, since he didn't know when Ludwig would be back. He rather just get some food, and his tea canisters then run back upstairs. ' _It wasn't because he was scared, why would he be scared of anything?_ ' He huffed gently. But it was just that..

He stopped wrapping the bandages on, staring depressingly at the sink. It's just that he felt that what he said last night was really harsh. After defending Ludwig, he basically took back what he meant by saying that. And he said it to his face as well.

Groaning, he slumped over the sink, rubbing his eyes tiredly. It really was too early to be asking questions. If anything, he just felt hungry.

Yawning, he walked down the stairs, making a direct beeline for the kitchen. After spending quite a bit living here, he had been able to remember the walkway with his eyes closed. But when he opened them again, he spotted a familiar-looking letter sitting in front of him, right on top of the counter. His legs froze in place, staring at it intensely. If he wasn't able to feel the tremendous pain in his chest, he would've thought that this was a case of deja vu dream sequences.

After a moment, he tried his best to snap out of it, approaching it slowly. His hand hovered over the thin piece of paper unsurely, nervousness getting a hold of him. ' _It wasn't possible that Ludwig had gone back to the East side was it?_ ' he asked himself, unfolding the letter. He didn't think that the German was that desperate to get a hold of his brother. What, was he going to try and fly to Italy next?

' _Dear Alfred,_

_I will return at noon, 2:00 PM sharp. Food is in the refrigerator. Please have your bags ready by then._

_Regards, B. Ludwig_ '

Alfred stared at the letter, skimming through it once more though there obviously wasn't much to skim through. He flipped the paper over, only to be met by a blank sheet. After scanning it uselessly, he flipped it again, looking at it in disbelief. ' _Was that seriously all that he wrote?_ ' Sighing loudly, he shoved it into his pocket and opened the fridge grumpily. At least Ludwig wasn't going to run away again.

He pulled out a bowl of roasted ham from last night, placing it in the microwave. He spotted the tea canisters that he had been given were aligned neatly together on the counter, the lid of Arthur's having been fixed back on. While the food rotated slowly, he carefully picked it back up, looking at the thin creases formed in the metal. He sighed guiltily, trying his best to remold it to its previous state. Hopefully Arthur wouldn't get that telekinetic feeling that he had accidentally crushed his gift.

\------------------------------

_Leningrad, Russia_

_November 1, 1950_

_8:43 PM_

Alfred yawned loudly as he got off the taxi, tugging the large suitcase behind him. His eyes blinked unevenly, cringing slightly as soon as he spotted the glimmering light of the building they were supposed to live in for the period of the meeting week. He stared at it in disgust, contemplating whether or not he should enter. Ivan really went all out on this particular meeting, didn't he?

As he stood there looking at it with a visible dismay, Ludwig brushed past him silently, waiting for the cross road light to turn green. Cars here weren't as bumbling as they were in the States, or hell, even Germany. It honestly just looked a tad bit dreadful in his opinion. Even with the lack of cars, the smell of overused exhaust pipes burnt his nose as he inhaled. He grumbled a bit, walking next Ludwig, keeping his distance. Alfred tightened the scarf on his neck, burrowing deeper into it as they waited.

It felt kind of awkward with just the two of them standing there, especially after Ludwig went out of his way to book two separate jets for them. He glared at the man beside him while covering up his nose from the wind. And why was Ludwig being the one mad with him? Shouldn't it have been the other way around?

The light turned green and they began to walk to the hotel, Alfred sighing as they did. Well, there was nothing he could do now was there? ' _Was it better that it had turned out the way that it did?_ ' He honestly couldn't answer that question.

He could feel doubt clouding his mind, which seemed crazy to him. Making decisions wasn't usually this hard. Some part of him thought that maybe being Ludwig's friend wasn't too horrible. As contrasting their personalities were, the last couple of weeks were actually kind of fun. Having any fun during work was rare, especially since the aftermath of the war, and the last place he'd expect it from was in Germany. But surprisingly, he did. And to think that he'd never do that again?

He let out a breathy sigh, looking dejected at the ground. ' _That's just a shame._ '

They both entered the grand doors of the hotel, relief crashing into the American as he felt warm air cradling his face. He looked around, spotting generals and countries lounging around the area, talking to each other casually. Those who weren't part of the meeting stared at them, probably never having seen so many foreigners in one place. Alfred loosened his scarf, revealing his pretty fancy looking suit beneath it. A reluctant smile appeared on his face as he walked in, trying his best not to show how tired he was. When he said that he wasn't going to sleep on the flight because he thought that maybe some Russian stewardess spy was going to rummage through his stuff, he meant it. But that also meant that he now had this pounding headache, which was worsened because of this suit he had on. Even though they weren't even going to start the meeting today since he was sure as hell any other nation was as jetlagged as he was, he still had to appear in this stuffy suit. He groaned internally, unraveling his scarf so that they were just slung casually onto his neck and began to walk towards the center. Ludwig didn't seem to make any comment on his farewell, not as if he was going to talk to the American anyways.

"Hey!" Alfred yelled out to the group that he quickly spotted as his own, pulling his suitcase behind him. "I'm not too late to the party am I?"

The group of three turned, finally noticing the american. "Ah." Matthew softly mumbled just slightly above a whisper. "How was your trip Al?"

"It wasn't too bad! Slept like a baby the entire flight." He lied through his teeth. If he said that he stayed up the entire time, he feared that Arthur may have used it as a chance to nag him. And with his lack of energy, he would not be able to handle that.

"Would you look at that?" Arthur said astonishingly, looking at his watch. "You're ten minutes early today!"

He ignored the somewhat sarcastic underlying tone in his voice, laughing out, "What can I say, I missed you guys!" He turned to Arthur, flashing him a large grin. "And thanks a lot for the gift y'all sent me, I actually liked it a lot more than I thought I would."

"Is that so.." The Englishman mumbled, placing a hand on his chin hesitantly.

Alfred opened his eyes to look at him, almost missing what he had said. "Hm?"

"Do you mind telling us.. Which one did you like the most?"

He stared blankly at Arthur, seeing him wrap a hand on the back of his neck shyly. At that moment, he realized how big of a mistake he had just made. He chuckled awkwardly, as Arthur's expectant stares bore into him. He didn't know that Arthur put that much effort into getting him the tea, that only made him feel even worse for lying. But he was already in so deep right? Slowly, he placed a smile onto his face, as he began to speak.

"If I had to choose, it'd be the english breakfast. It just.. Had such a.. Complex flavor?" He stumbled out, carefully peeking at his friend.

Much to his relief, Arthur seemed to brighten up when he said that, puffing out his chest and it looked like his nose was growing due to his quickly inflated ego. "Yes well, it _is_ a great tea if I do say so myself," He said, placing a hand over his chest proudly. "obviously you'd pick it over some flowers."

Gasping dramatically, Francis draped his arms over Alfred without warning, stroking his head softly. "Angleterre, what have you done to our innocent boy? Have you used your voodoo magic on him?"

"I did nothing of the sort! And I perform black magic!"

"Say what you may, how could you stoop so low as placing a spell on him?"

"Why you.."

Alfred pulled away from Francis as the two continued to bicker to each other like yapping dogs. He sighed with an eased expression on his face and walked up to his brother, resting his head tiredly on his shoulder. "They seem like they completely got over the 'Germany Incident' huh?" He mumbled, shutting his eyes for a few restful seconds.

"Well I wouldn't say completely, but they're trying their best." Matthew retorted, slinging his arm over the American. They stared at the two, watching as Francis snatched Arthur's horrid handkerchief, as if he was confiscating it. "It's great to see you again Al." He whispered back softly.

"You too Matt. You too."

The sound of the noisy lobby enveloped him, the nostalgia of being in such a compact environment now being the norm for him. Now, he'd just be drowned out in the chatter, though usually he'd be the one to participate in said chatter. However seeing as this was a special occasion, he just wanted this week to be done and over with. And the process of fulfilling that wish wasn't exactly ideal.

Shoes thumped down the grand carpeted stairs, the commotion of the gathered men for the meeting hushing in an instance. Alfred let out a disgruntled groan, lifting his head back up from his brother's shoulder. Arthur and Francis had seemed to quiet down as well. Even without opening his eyes, he already knew who it was that had captured everyone's attention so quickly. And to think that he'd be the one being fashionably late today.

Begrudgingly, he made his way to the stairs along with everyone else, looking upwards to spot Ivan staring back at him through his shadowed bangs. He shuddered, gazing into those beady crimson purple irises that actually seemed to glow. Alfred glared back at him, shoving his hands into his pockets. The entire room seemed to have picked up on the staring competition between the two, some starting to talk among themselves. It seemed as if the conflict that occurred a year before had obviously not been resolved. People who were present that day began to back up from the American, able to feel the burning ferocity emanating from him. It was probably a good idea to not get so close to him.

"Alfred, it's been a while hasn't it?" Ivan mused, placing a thick smile on his face. Slowly, he marched down the stairs, his arms crossed behind him.

The American sighed loudly, not making a move as Ivan walked closer. "I suppose it has."

Anyone could tell that he was clearly pissed off about something. Nevermind, that jolly grin that he had on a couple minutes ago, he seriously looked like he was about to negotiate nuclear weapons. Arthur, Matthew, and Francis watched the tense atmosphere grow thicker with every passing second, the uncomfortable silence of the short answer Alfred had, making everyone feel excruciation just watching this.

"It's a pleasure to have you here." Ivan continued, sticking his hand out.

Alfred looked at it suspiciously, then back at the Russian. That innocent, weird smile was still on his damn face, waiting for him to respond. And sadly, he wasn't exactly in the position to ignore him just because he was petty. With a deep breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket and returned the handshake. "Thank you for your warm hospitality."

"Please, enjoy your time here." Ivan said sweetly, sliding something into the American's sleeve inconspicuously.

The moment Alfred felt his freezing fingers enter his cuffs, he immediately jerked his hand away. He held his wrist close to his chest, disliking the cold sting it had left behind. Suspicious murmurs entered the crowd, as Ivan looked at him, unphased.

"Uh.. Thank you." He muttered, feeling a piece of paper fumbling around in his sleeve.

They nodded to each other, Alfred turning around as he felt a big weight being lifted off his chest. Admittedly, it could've gone much worse than that, and he was actually a bit proud of how well he held it together. Who knows, maybe General Marsh would've pat him on the back again. But as he looked at his friends behind them, he could see the visible worry they had written all over their expression. It felt like he had just done something wrong, although he didn't know what.

"Jesus Christ Al.." Matthew muttered beneath his breath, rubbing his forehead incessantly.

"Are you doing alright mon ami?" Francis said worriedly, scrunching up Arthur's nasty handkerchief in his hands tightly.

Alfred looked at them confusedly, placing a hand behind his neck. "What? I thought I responded pretty well."

"If well meant terribly, then I would agree." Arthur murmured.

"Yeah, it was hard to watch."

"Okay, okay, I get it, I sucked out there." Alfred said, placing his hands up in hopes in quieting them down. It looked as if his conversation with Ivan was a lot worse than he thought it was. "Just give me some time to relax a bit, it's been a rough couple of days for me."

Arthur's expression softened, along with his voice. "Everything alright lad?"

Alfred cracked out a large grin, waving his hand around carelessly. "Yeah, just got a lot of reforms to look over, no biggy."

"I see, I see."

The American pulled back from the group, hiding his arm behind his back warily. He didn't think that Ivan was going to make such a big scene so early into their arrival, but then again, he found him unpredictable. He didn't know what was going on in that crazy head of his, and could only stand on guard. Knowing that, made him uncomfortable to say the least, the fact that he was now somewhat under his control. What Ivan was planning was beyond him. He tightened the grip on his suitcase tighter, swallowing a dry gulp. Out of all the moments he had ever spent living on this world, this was probably the most terrified he has ever been of Ivan. The blackmail would just snowball downhill, growing harsher and harsher. He was so screwed.

"Pardon me sir, Mr. Alfred F. Jones I presume?" A lady asked from behind, tapping the American's shoulder softly.

Alfred turned around, snapped out from his thoughts as he saw one of the staff holding out a large gift bag in their hand. He stammered a bit, still shocked from the sudden appearance. "Oh huh? Yeah that's me."

The woman smiled softly, and offered the bag towards him. "These are for you."

Alfred kept his hands to himself, not making any move to grab it immediately. He didn't remember asking for any VIP services, not as if he would've accepted it if it was free. His eyes scanned the room, peering at the other guests in front of him. There were no other staff handing out bags, in fact it seemed as if he was the only one receiving a bag. ' _So then why am I getting this? Did Ivan send this out for me?_ ' His mind darkened at the thought, a scowl appearing on his face. What a weirdo that guy was. "I'm sorry, who are these from?"

"My apologies, I didn't catch his name." She apologized profusely. Her hand rose upwards, pointing into the crowd of gentlemen gathered at the meeting. "But it was from that gentleman over there."

His eyes traced to where she was pointing at, expecting to see Ivan standing there, creepily staring at him with that smug smile on his face. But much to his surprise, it was nowhere even near where Ivan was. Instead, it was a particular slick blonde haired man, standing behind one of the couches. As soon as Ludwig caught wind that he was being pointed out, he locked eyes with Alfred, before immediately turning away for the elevator. The American stared at him as he scurried away suspiciously, in complete confusion. "I see, thank you." He mumbled under his breath, taking the gift bag from the lady. She hummed out a 'No problem' before walking away.

By the time she left, Ludwig was no longer in the lobby. Alfred supposed humorously that maybe he was actually Batman in disguise. He placed a hand on his chin, thinking to himself seriously. Would that make him the butler, Alfred since they shared the same name? He shook his head, finding the image of him as an old man somewhat repulsive.

But still.. He glanced at the items in the bag, noticing that whatever Ludwig had put in there was tall, and made of metal. It was like the tea canisters Arthur had gifted him, except it probably didn't contain tea. He looked at it longingly, realizing how curious he was of what Ludwig had given him. As he was about to think of the possibilities of items in the bag, a sudden thought struck him on the head. ' _Perhaps, Ludwig just found something that Alfred had left behind and was giving it back to him?_ ' He thought to himself realistically. Slowly, his shoulders slumped as he looked away from the bag. ' _Yeah.. that was probably it._ ' It continued. He didn't leave their argument on the nicest tone last night. Instead of resolving it like a normal adult, he just stomped away. He let his arms fall, swinging to his side.

' _Great._ ' He thought to himself, feeling for the paper in his sleeve. ' _Everytime I meet Ivan, my day really just goes downhill doesn't it?_ ' He grabbed ahold of it in his palm, unfolding it as he walked away, not caring if anyone saw what was in it. ' _How much worse could it possibly get?_ ' He thought sarcastically.

With a bitter look on his face, he read the scribbled words on the paper, immediately regretting how badly he jinxed himself.

' _Meet me at 10:30 PM. Floor D, Room 136 :)_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, glad to see this update again? It was a bit rushed, I admit, but I don't think it ended up too terribly. Ah, I don't want to spoil you guys, but I promise that everything will turn out okay in the next couple of chapters 0~0. Trust me on that, no lie. And please don't forget our precious Feli's gift! I haven't forgotten about it, and I hope you guys won't either. It will come soon, sit tight. Stay classy and much love.


	23. Clear

_Leningrad, Russia_

_November 1, 1950_

_9:12 PM_   
  


Alfred stood at his door silently, staring into the hotel room intensely. Before he entered, he scanned the walls, the assortment on the tables, or maybe the small lamp near his bed. He didn't trust a single thing here, especially whatever the Russian had supplied him with. This was only a normal procedure, but now, he had a special item with him. Quietly, he took out a small red device from his suitcase, drawing out its antenna. Cleaning staff would probably plant the bugs right back where they were while he was at the meeting, but he can always take them right back out.

* _Woo...woo...woo!_ The radio-like object screeched as he turned the knob to the highest calibration.

The cool thing about having deep roots in the government was that he got to test out the latest equipment. His lab just produced this little gimmick that beeped at the slightest wave of a listening bug. Apparently the more levels you turn it to, the stronger the detection was. He beamed in pride as he clutched it proudly in his hands. Ivan can't spy on him this time.

Carefully, he waved it over the open closet filled with bathrobes.

* _........Wzzzp!_

It sounded loudly as it hovered over one particular robe in the back. He frowned slightly, shoving his hand into the pocket of it and fish out a small electronic object. It was small enough to not be noticed, even if he had worn that robe. He sighed annoyedly, throwing it into a trashcan and continued his search. If they were this small, they could be anywhere.

* _........Wzzzp!_

In the coffee machine.

* _........Wzzzp!_

Beneath the bed.

_*........Wzzzp!_

Disguised as part of the morning alarm.

After a while, Alfred stood up finally, letting out an exhausted breath. In his hand was the final little bug, he was sure of it. But he really did underestimate Ivan's creepiness, damn.

He walked over to the bin, dropping the bug inside of it while looking at it with a face of utter disbelief. The room that he stood in was rather large on the usual accommodation spectrum for World meetings, he'll admit that. But he could swear up and down that he counted twenty-five listening bugs in total while doing a full sweep of his room. He let out a huge sigh, as he draped one of his more thicker coats on the trashcan. There weren't any communal bins where people could just dump their trash out in this hotel, which annoyed the hell out of him. Then again, he could just crush them into a fine dust beneath his heel. His mind lightened at the thought of that image. Truthfully, he would like to take some stress off.

However, it'd probably be better if he took the edge off with something that wasn't so violent. He made his way to his luggage, pulling out the tea canisters. He grabbed the one labeled ' _Matthew W._ ' flipping it over to the front label. Now that he thought about it, he never actually saw what type of tea his brother chose for him. And the more he thought about it, the more curious he was.

Much to his surprise, he saw a light yellowish-green sticker, a bold but elegant font writing, ' _Jasmine Green Tea_ ' He stared oddly at it, grasping it firmly in his hands. After hanging around the Allies for such a while, he remembered Yao yelling at Arthur for making bitter Jasmine tea. At first, he didn't pay them any mind until the fighting was getting physical. Then he had to step in. But Matthew knew he hated bitter things, he knew that pretty well. So why..

Despite his suspicion, he popped open the lid, another letter fluttering down.

' _Hey Alfred._

_I don't know if you read the subtext in the description of this tea, but it could taste bitter if you brew it for too long. I figured that you'd usually be the type to dump this into a cup and start stirring with hot water. There's not much I can do to help you right now honestly. It's probably hard standing in the limelight isn't it? Lucky for me, I don't have much work to do for the next couple of days because Francis forgot to give me the analytics from the last meeting. It'll probably be around five days until he realizes, but by that time, I'll be back at my cabin. I hope things are going well for you over at Germany's. I know you probably have an overload of work to do there, and reading this might be a waste of time but usually I drink this tea when it gets too much. It helps me focus. Maybe it'll work for you too._

_See you soon.'_

Alfred held the letter delicately in his hands, a grin breaking out onto his face. Even though Matthew wasn't much of a chatterbox when it came to speaking, he was definitely a writer for the literary arts. His attention turned back to the tea, noticing small white petals scattered among the twisted black leaves. It had a smooth, almost refined type of smell, that placed his mind at ease. With another breath, he set it to the side, keeping the letter tucked into his pocket. Maybe he'll drink it later.

He glanced at his watch, reading it clearly as ' _9:17_ '. His hand reached up to his temple massaging it gently as he realized how tired his eyes were getting. It wasn't until an hour he had to meet Ivan, he could squeeze in a short nap. ' _But I should take care of this first.._ ' Alfred thought to himself, glancing at the large paper bag standing besides the door. He walked unsurely towards it, pulling out the large metal canister. It could've been some blueprints he had left in the living room. Or that set of papers that he was supposed to read over about the industries in West Germany. He shuddered at the reminder, realizing that he didn't remember placing it into his bag. Ludwig was probably really annoyed by the fact that he had to pack it for him.

With a sheepish grin on his face, he carefully inspected it, careful not to drop it. However, it seemed strange, the more he looked at it. There was this sticker, sealing its cap on. And what more, a folded note taped to the can floated down as soon as he turned it, landing on the ground. Before he even looked at the letter, he realized that the metal canister had a sweet, caramel smell on it.

A bit confused, he popped open the canister, surprised to have not seen the missing papers, but rather a pack of what seemed to be biscuits, gauze, and medicinal gel. He stared oddly at the objects, picking up the biscuits first. On it, the words ' _StroopWafel_ ' were on its label, along with an adorable depiction of a child biting into it. Taking a small whiff, he realized that the sugary caramel smell was coming from it. And not to mention, it was such a delicious smell as well. His hand reached out to untie it before realizing the letter still on the floor. Quickly, he snatched it up, unfolding it.

' _Dear Alfred,_

_I apologize for my reaction last night, I truly do. My temper was unchecked and I harmed you in the process, and for that, I am sorry. You were being a friend and concerned over me and my actions. My selfish desire has led us to a destruction I'm not even aware of. I never meant to blame you for the separation of me and my brother. In a fit of rage, I said what had first come to my mind. I cannot describe my sincerity in words for your injury, the aloe vera gel should cool it down. For best results, switch gauzes every three hours and keep still. I whole-heartedly understand if you would like to break the alliance now, these gifts are not meant to waver your decision. Once again, I apologize sincerely._

_Regards, B. Ludwig_ '

Alfred released the breath he was holding in the entire time he was reading the letter, feeling the guilt toppling onto him. With how the German was acting, he thought that he was still mad at him. ' _I guess not huh?_ ' He thought to himself. He never meant to blame Ludwig for the separation either, even though he had said that. He hit his head onto the wall in exasperation, not minding the pain from how hard he slammed it. It was their decision of how to punish him, he was still technically at fault.

He straightened out the letter beneath him, glancing over the words. And he wasn't mad at Ludwig! Well last night he was, but he's had his time to get over that. Besides, it was only an injury, not some sort of ultimate betrayal. Softly, he patted his chest, feeling for the burn wound. He could barely feel the pain anymore, though he won't deny that he didn't heal completely yet. With a lasting groan, he tucked the biscuits into his pocket and walked over to the phone, dialing for the receptionist. He wasn't going to just let this misunderstanding slide for the entire meeting week. If he was going to clear this up, he might as well do it now.

" **Hello this is reception, how may we help you today?** "

" **Please.. Tell me room of Ludwig Beilschmidt?** " Alfred vaguely mumbled back. Though he was somewhat fluent in German, he crashed and burned when it came to Russian.

He could hear the receptionist giggling in the background as his face flushed red. " **Certainly sir. Floor C, room 104** "

"Thank you." He responded back, placing the phone back down. He probably should take learning Russian more seriously now that he was butting heads with Ivan.

He walked past his bed, repeating the room number in his head when he noticed some dull colored item sticking out of his suitcase. His eyes widened as he stared at it, pausing for a moment, before grabbing it and shoving inside of his pocket. After all the time he spent in Germany, he almost forgot about it!

As he walked past the door and into the hallway, he thought to himself on what he should say. When in battle, unlike his fellow European allies, he never really thought about tactics or trickery in getting his victory. The enemy wouldn't know what he was planning if he himself didn't know what he was planning either. Besides, usually his outstanding artillery would win the battle by itself. But he had no tanks or submarines here. He walked a little bit faster, skimming the door numbers as he did. When it came to anything that didn't require brute force, he never turned out too well, just look at the incident a year ago as an example. And now that he was finally out of the war, he only realized how much of a vital skill communication was after the incident. Finally, he stopped in front of room 104, his hand a couple inches away from the door as he hesitated.

A thought whispered itself to him, a small inkling of a thought that was one among many going through his head. But that didn't change the fact that he had heard it. How easy it was for such a tiny question to falter his movements.

' _Was Ivan right to have treated me, as if I was beneath him?_ '

His heart thumped louder, the blood in his veins pumping through his ears. It felt like there was something blocking his throat, as he looked down at his feet. Were they not on the same level as he had previously thought before? It was true that they may not have been completely on par with each other that day. And how he had managed to embarrass himself in front of hundreds, just because he was provoked.. Ivan's malicious words repeated in his head, the way he looked down on him etching a wound into his heart. He still remembered the moment he realized that Ivan had never viewed them as equals. The way he looked down on him with those darkened maroon eyes. Softly, he bit down on his lip, shutting his eyes tightly. Unlike all the times he had ever speculated on how he was patronised, he couldn't bring himself to feel angry.

Small tears pricked on the edges of his eyes as his shoulders drooped. All he felt was pain. He desperately wanted the feeling to be loved back. Had his standards dropped so low that he never noticed how bad the relationship was getting, how badly he was curving his attitude to make Ivan like him more? ' _How I betrayed Toris and left him in that hotel room alone to follow Ivan._ '

He crumpled to the floor, his nose starting to sting a bit. Was he really soft? Like Ivan said he was?

Was he really beneath him?

* _Creak.._ A door peeled open slowly, a low voice asking him in a slight irritation after a short silence of the American unmoving from his spot. "How long are you going to stand there?"

Alfred shook, not even realizing that it had opened. He looked up, staring face to face to an uncomfortable German looking the other way. At first he was somewhat confused, before realizing that he had snot coming out of his nose and tears running down his face.

"I wasn't crying man." He mumbled hurriedly, quickly wiping his face as he got up from the floor.

"Never said that you were." Ludwig responded back, a quietness being left between them as they stood there uneasily.

Ludwig stepped away from the door, awkwardly asking after a while, "..Would you like to come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'." Alfred said, walking into the hotel room. The German closed the door behind them, as the American looked around the room before pulling out a small red radio-like object from his pocket again.

"Would you-" Ludwig started off, immediately being cut off by the American's hand on his shoulder, a quiet _*Shhh.._ Coming from him.

This only made him grunt in annoyance, removing the hand gently. Really, did Alfred think that he was an idiot? "Do not worry," He said, picking up an ice bucket next to them, handing it to the American as he stiffened his vest. "I have already disposed of them."

Alfred stared at him in confusion, hoping that he would continue only to be met by his back walking further away from him. He looked back down into the bucket, shocked to be met with the sight of crushed listening devices brutally drowned and entrapped by the ice. He sputtered out, "Wait. How did you find them?"

"I dabble in engineering." Ludwig mumbled, a soft pink hue settling into his cheeks as he did. As subtle as it was, he almost looked proud of himself while saying that.

Alfred blinked at him, finding it hard to bring himself to show any amazement. "Huh. Somehow, that's not very surprising." He tossed the bucket to the side, ice water sloshing from within as he walked to the table in the middle of the room, taking a seat. "Anyways, do you got anything to drink?"

As if a switch had been flicked, the German resumed his hesitant dialogue, like he was a waiter writing down an order. "There's some tea and water." His voice sounded awkward, strangely not as loud as it was before.

Alfred gave him a long stare, as if he was disappointed in the fact that his past alcoholic antics weren't clear enough to discern what he meant. "Actual drinks, Ludwig." He deadpanned.

The German looked at him, probably contemplating to himself whether or not he should say something before rummaging through the freezer in silence. "There is vodka?"

"You mean drink whatever Ivan has given us? I rather not." The American groaned, pulling out a flask from his jacket, downing the little bottle in one go. "Ah!" He exclaimed happily, the smell of the alcohol filling the room. There was this cheeky smile already on his face, like the one he had while buried in bottles.

Ludwig frowned at the smell, his brows furrowing on his face. "I don't remember you getting intoxicated so quickly when we drank beer."

"That's because this ain't beer." Alfred grinned widely. "It's Denros rum. * _Hic!_ 80% alcohol bro."

As the American slammed his head into the table, he couldn't see the shocked and disgusted look on Ludwig's face. Although after a lot of practice in dealing with drunkards that were able to get as rowdy as Gilbert, the German had a specialty in keeping in line. However, he feared that Alfred was going to be the one that exceeded his skill set.

He sighed, making his way to the table as well. "Is there a reason why you came here? Do you have trouble reading the instructions on the aloe vera gel packets? If so, I-"

"Trouble?" Alfred yelled, taken aback. Ludwig looked back up at the American, being able to see how offended he was by the small comment. "I can read it just fine, you know I speak german!"

Ludwig rubbed his forehead annoyedly, trying to wave at Alfred to quiet down. "Do you always get this loud when you drink?"

"Hahahehaheh, yeah." He giggled like a toddler, rolling his head to one side with a large smile on his face. "And besides, my burn is just fine, you know we heal really fast."

Ludwig looked at him, a bit shocked before thinking to himself again. "Ah yes.. I've nearly forgotten." He said with a solemn tone. Though he never looked like the type to, he fiddled with his hands as he looked down in reminiscence. "My brother always had a hard time healing during the war, I suppose it was just out of instinct I overreacted."

Alfred glanced at him, the comforted expression he had on his face softening his heart. Slowly, he got up, facing Ludwig. "Listen, you asked what I came here for right?" The German turned to him, waiting for him to continue. "I came here to say that I'm sorry."

"..Pardon?"

A loud groan erupted from him as he threw his head back. "I'm sorry! Damn.. didn't think you're hearing was that terrible."

"No, I don't understand. I was the one who got us in trouble. I should be the one apologizing."

"But I still said that mean shit to you dude." He replied, polishing the cold metal of the canteen in his hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't more understanding." As pissed as he was at Ludwig for being so reckless, he couldn't be mad at the fact that he was being tortured knowing that Gilbert was less than a mile away from him. "You just really wanted to see your brother, and in the first opportunity in five years, I suppose that you took it. Not to mention how close you two are. I never even considered being in your shoes." He threw his hands in the air, almost as if he was just talking to himself. "If I was separated from Matt by some chain link fence after five years of not seeing him? The only way I was getting back onto my side was being carried out in a body bag." He grumbled darkly, taking his seat again.

They sat in stillness, Alfred's confession making the atmosphere a lot more tense than before. But strangely, it felt much warmer now that he said that. It wasn't too horrible to hear that coming from someone else.

"In all truthfulness, this wasn't some impulsive act that I made immediately after spotting my brother." Ludwig started, rubbing his thumb into his other hand's palm. "I had my plans laid out to see him, ever since I spotted him in mid-September."

Alfred's ears perked up as he said that, somewhat shocked. He lifted his head from the chair to stare at Ludwig, but he said nothing. ' _I know that Gilbert was in East Berlin for a while, but he was there for almost two months?_ '

Ludwig didn't seem to notice the American's surprise, continuing with his head low. "But then I had received news that you were visiting after setting everything into motion. I feared that my hopes were ruined."

"Was that why you were so cold to me in the first couple of days?"

Ludwig seemed to freeze up, but continuing shortly after, "It was part of the reason, yes. I apologize for being so blunt with my resentment."

"I'd probably be pissed too, not going to lie." Alfred responded, nodding to the side. "But you know, this conversation wouldn't have been so awkward if you had just told me something."

Ludwig grunted, looking at him sceptically. "I highly doubt it was appropriate for me to have talked to you so casually after you stormed out last night."

The American shot up from his chair, sobering up quickly. "Yeah, but that was last night! I thought you were still angry at me!"

"Angry? Why would I be angry?"

"You were silent the entire car ride."

"I'm not great at conversation starters."

"But what about you separating our flights here? You even went out of your way to get yourself another jet."

"I noticed you were quiet for the duration of our drive to the airport, so I assumed you were still upset."

Alfred stared at him in disbelief, slowly sinking down into his chair in utter bewilderment. "So you're telling me that you got another plane just to give me space?"

Nodding softly, Ludwig responded calmly. "Yes."

The American shut his eyes tightly, trying to comprehend what Ludwig was telling him and think to himself. Unfortunately, it made sense. And now, he felt worse than before. Here he was, thinking that Ludwig was just being stubborn and quiet. But it really turned out to be the exact opposite. ' _Damn.. I don't deserve to have a friend like this._ ' He bowed his head down, using his arms to hold himself up as he just stared down. "Am I bad at reading emotions?"

Feeling somewhat guilty for misleading the American, Ludwig offered him what he thought was comfort. "I have been told many times that my face gives off quite the frightening first impression."

"I don't know whether I should feel bad for you or happy for me."

Ludwig sighed, getting up from his seat to fix himself a drink. Even if it was Russian vodka, it was vodka nonetheless. If the American was going to have alcohol, who says that he couldn't either? "I still apologize." He said.

"It's fine, I'm not completely innocent either. We can call it even."

"Still, I do question what you said last night."

Smacking his face a bit from the rum, Alfred asked him casually. "What I said?"

"About how I wouldn't have faced the consequences of Ivan catching us."

Placing down his hand, he could feel his face turn wry at the mention of his name. "Oh.." He faltered for a bit, glancing to the side. He was so immersed in the conversation with Ludwig, he almost forgot about his next appointment today. Ah, but how could he forget?

"Now that I think about it, it seems as though you didn't mean it as an insult." The German continued, pulling a large chilled bottle from the fridge.

Silence was the only thing that followed after his statement. Ludwig poured the clear liquid in a short cup, the sudden stillness of the room echoing in his ears. Even if his back was turned to the American, he could already feel the tenseness in the room grow thicker.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer, I won't try to push the answer out of you this time." He muttered, bringing the cup to his mouth. "Whatever your business is with Ivan, I'll stay out of it."

Alfred exhaled softly, feeling the weight on his chest being lifted. "Thanks 'Schmidt. I really appreciate that."

Ludwig nodded gently, starting to wash the cup. "..Could I ask you just one more thing?" He muttered beneath his breath, talking a lot slower.

Leaning back into his chair nonchalantly, Alfred started to rock it back and forth, wondering if he could catch himself if he was about to fall off. "Hm? Yeah, Shoot."

"Will my visit affect my wait time on seeing my brother again?"

Alfred stopped teetering the chair, feeling his heart start to sink. Though Ludwig had never struck him as the curious type, his voice sounded so much more different than in their previous conversation. His back was facing him, as he took a while drying the cup. Even if he was asking this question, he seemed to already know the answer. He was just checking if there was a possibility that he could be wrong.

"Ah.." Alfred mumbled, sharply sucking in a breath through his teeth. They both knew what he was going to say. From the dining table, he could already see Ludwig's shoulder deflate hopelessly.

That made this all the more harder to say. "Honestly, you probably won't see him for a while. I don't know if I can arrange a meeting for you two without having some-"

"It's fine, it's fine." Ludwig interrupted, holding up his body on the counter. He had expected this. "These past few years have been quite lonesome in that old house of mine. However, I'm grateful that I was given the opportunity to see his smile again. He always loved eating stroopwafels actually."

Alfred almost didn't respond. There was this unexplainable pain in Ludwig's voice as if he was stuck in an endless loop of despair. Even if the American reached out to him, he was still separated from his loved ones, while simultaneously only being a short distance away yet unable to approach them. What a wonderful moment to fully understand that.

"O-Oh yeah what are these actually?" He stammered, pulling the cookies from his pocket as he internally panicked. He knew that the German had a sad life, but not to this extent.

Ludwig walked towards him, explaining as he did. "In short, they're two thin biscuits with caramel filling. Gilbert used to eat these with his chamomile tea before he got cavities."

Alfred looked down at them, unwrapping it and pulled one of them out. Before the German could ask what he was doing, he split the stroopwafel in half, handing one over to Ludwig.

"To Gilbert!" The American exclaimed, holding his part of the biscuit in the air proudly.

Ludwig stared at him with wide eyes, before letting out a small chuckle. Gratefully, he took the other half, lightly tapping it on Alfred's as they cheered. "Ja, to Gilbert."

It wouldn't matter how long it took for him to see his brother again. It made him happy to know that he would see him again one day. And when that day came, he'd be sure to see that smile again.

\------------------------------

_Leningrad, Russia_

_November 1, 1950_

_9:12 PM_   
  


With a loud laugh, Alfred stepped out of the room, a large grin on his face. "See you later man! Thanks for the awesome company."

Ludwig had a little smile on his face, contentment settling into his aura. "Likewise."

And before he knew it, the door was shut lightly. Ludwig seemed a lot better now after eating the stroopwafel though he wouldn't be able to prove it. The mood he was in just looked a lot happier and at ease than when they returned to West Berlin.

The American began to walk down to his room, a sigh leaving his lips. And yet, he still didn't even give it to him. Slowly, he pulled out a small rusty blue tin box, its large rosy red bow being its only redeeming factor.

His face changed, that happy grin on his face starting to melt a bit. Even if he was Ludwig's friend, Ludwig was still lonely as hell. He could hear it in his voice, and heard him say it himself. ' _I know I promised Feliciano that I'd give him the box.._ ' He clenched it in his hands, walking faster as a plan formulated in his mind. If he pulled the right strings, he could give Ludwig an even better present.

Feli's request could wait just a little longer, couldn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahah, I can't believe I published this on time. This is double of the usual chapters I post, so that might explain why I was a bit panicked. Feli's little gift appeared huh? I wonder what our protagonist is planning, I can't wait to post next chapter y'all, I hope you guys are excited to. Stay jazzy, and much love.


	24. Gentle

_Leningrad, Russia_

_November 1, 1950_

_10:03 PM_  
  


* _Knock, knock, knock!_

Alfred stood in front of the door impatiently, eyes fidgeting side to side. Despite it being later in the night and most guests probably trying to sleep off their jet lag, he couldn't ignore how paranoid of his surroundings as he was. If anyone were to see him standing in front of Ivan's room at this hour, there's no telling what they would think. Although he was dreading to visit the Russian tonight, he desperately wanted to get in the room, lest anyone see him.

The locks turn and the knob of the door twisted open, as his eyes shot up at the towering man standing inside his room, his suit still on. The moment they made eye-contact, Alfred scowled quietly, trying his best to control his anger. Ivan had a hand behind his neck, his usual smiling, gleeful demeanor nowhere to be seen. He seemed confused, almost surprised to see the American standing in front of him.

"Fedya?" He asked. Then, a mocking grin cracked open on his face as he leaned down to meet eye to eye with him. "My, my, weren't we going to meet at 10:30? I didn't know you wanted to see me that badly."

Alfred looked off to the side, grumbling as he pushed his way in with an annoyed look on his face. "Shut up." He couldn't stand that condescending voice of his.

"Ahh, don't be so cold." Ivan lamented, making way as he was shoved aside. He didn't expect the American to be as tender with him as he was before, but neither did he expect him to be apathetic. Though he had a somewhat pitiful smile on his face, he really did find it unpleasant to be brushed off so callously.

He watched onward as Alfred walked past him, tossing a plastic bag on the table as he stood in the room, inspecting it carelessly. No doubt about it, the Russian probably hid all his stuff before Alfred's arrival so that he wouldn't be able to snoop through his room. Or maybe, this wasn't even his room in the first place. He wouldn't be surprised if Ivan had arranged a separate room for them to meet.

The light smell of rum wafted to Ivan's nose as he stared at the tense back of the other nation. His nose scrunched up softly, letting a sigh slip from his mouth. "I really did miss you, you know." Ivan mumbled under his breath, taking a close look into the plastic bag. There, laid all twenty-five listening bugs, smashed to a pulp. He smiled to himself in amusement, picking up a bottle of clear vodka from the table.

"I get it." Alfred muttered irritatedly, placing a hand over his head, feeling a throbbing pain at the sound of his voice. Ivan sounded so calm and relaxed, as if they weren't ex's, as if he didn't fear the consequences of blackmailing him. And why would he? Why would he care about him? After all he did pull some elaborate scheme into tricking him. That was enough to show that he still looked down on him right?

He rubbed his temple gently, trying his best to calm himself from his anger. ' _I just thought that maybe.._ ' he continued, clenching his eyes tiredly. ' _Maybe he would try to respect me after our separation._ ' Was that so hard to imagine? His breaths felt shallow, like his lungs were filled with sand.He tugged at his collar roughly, trying to make space for his throat. It was so damn hard to breathe in this room.

Ivan popped open the bottle in his hand, pouring himself a cup as the quietness droned on. He had shut off the heater a while ago, but now he had come to regret that decision. Even if he didn't care much for the cold, the sound of the ventilation would've been much better company than this silence. He brought the glass up to his mouth, feeling the burning sensation rush down his throat. He stared off into the wall, swirling the glass in his hand.

Now that he thought about it, the American was always fond of alcohol of any sort, whether it be vodka, rum, beer, or spirits. It wouldn't hurt to offer some to him.

Pouring another cup, he asked sweetly, "Do you want a drink?"

Alfred froze, his pupils dilating back in shock. For a moment, the American had forgotten about his self-control at the question he was asked.

' _Do you want a drink?_ '

An anguished look appeared on his face, the odd mix of amusement and pain swirling in his expression as his hand grasped onto his soft golden hair tightly. ' _He was right, but of course he was right._ ' He thought to himself, a disturbing smile growing on his face. He threw his head back, letting out a short laugh. "Hah!"

The pouring stopped, only filling a fourth of the cup as Ivan turned back to stare at him. He didn't think that he had said anything amusing. "Is there something funny?" He asked strangely, not knowing whether he should be laughing too.

That follow up question only angered Alfred more, as he finally turned around to meet the Russian's eye. In that instant, Ivan could tell something he had said triggered him. There was this merciless menacing spark in his eyes, that made it look like they were glowing. They felt jagged, almost harsh to gaze at, but they were the most amount of emotion he had seen coming from the American ever since the deal. And for a second, he could feel his own smile falter at the sight.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, thinking to himself with a burning ferocity. ' _I was right. He really did look down on me, even now._ ' He took a step towards Ivan, glaring at him intensely. "You really think I'd drink something you poured me?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not an idiot Ivan." He snarled, his eyes seeming to have fixed themselves onto him entirely.

Genuinely confused, Ivan tried to give him an innocent-like smile again, and pointed to the bottle he was holding. "But it's just-"

"I don't know what you put in there." Alfred yelled, not caring if he was loud enough for people to hear him. He didn't care anymore. "How about you just feed it to me directly? Some sleeping drug or even better, that poison you gave Toris?"

Ivan blinked a bit, taken aback. That smile on his face fell, shocked to the point where loathing for the unbearable silence almost felt questionable. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come out, a twisted grin festering itself onto Alfred. His arm stiffened, as his mind continued to run blank. The idea, of doing something like that, hadn't crossed his mind.

"Fedya.." He mumbled quietly, raising his hand up as if to reach for him. His heart pounded loudly, veins pumping through his ears. Was this really what he thought of him? "I would never-"

"Don't." Alfred snapped, shutting his eyes tightly as his head continued hammering. ' _Shit.. I feel like it got worse._ '

Slowly, he sat himself on the bed, facing down as he sunk into the mattress. He really needed to work on his anger management. "That name really pisses me off, especially when you use it, just forget that I said anything."

Ivan stared at him at him silently, as his hand slowly drifted back to his side. He couldn't say anything. And even if he could, what would he say? Alfred looked away from him, shutting his eyes in frustration.

The Russian thought to himself, questioning what just happened. Whenever Alfred got frustrated, he would close his eyes just like that and call Ivan on the phone to talk. And when they did, he always spoke so fondly with that carefree attitude. He always reached out to him, even if it was just to talk about being stressed.

But now, they felt so apart. Ivan looked longingly at him, waiting for him to finally look up at him with a chuckle. That smile that made his dimples show, that made it feel like he was a beaming token of warm paradise himself. But that never happened. He was cold, and distant. There wasn't a speck of warmth that came from him. They stood only a few feet apart, but it felt like they were miles away from each other. There was so much space between them, and now Ivan felt like a fool for ever thinking he could repair it. Even without asking, he knew that this wasn't some act Alfred was putting up to gain some form of sympathy. He was being honest.

That disgusted look he had whenever they made eye-contact, his tired and annoyed tone of voice. This was definitely different than before. Alfred no longer loved or feared him. No, no, no.

He _despised_ him.

Without sparing him a glance, Alfred tore off his jacket and threw it to the floor hastily. "I just want to get this over with." He continued, sliding off his tie and unbuttoning the top parts of his shirt. He really didn't care anymore. He's come this far right? There was no turning back, no matter how badly he wanted to. Ivan watched from afar, still finding it hard to speak. Alfred waited for him, to walk towards him, to do something, only to be annoyed when he didn't. Seriously, couldn't Ivan make his mind up already? "Isn't this what you wanted?" He asked angrily, tugging his shirt open.

Ivan's eyes shifted to the side, feeling unable to even meet his gaze. "..I expected you to come later. I was about to take a shower." He mumbled out after a moment.

"..."

Alfred didn't answer.

"You may use it when I come out then." He continued, quietly retreating to the bathroom.

Alfred waited for the steps to finally disappear, finding it hard to sit up for so long when his head hurted like hell. As he heard the bathroom door close, he finally let out a sigh of relief and let his back fall onto the thick blankets beneath him. He stared at the high popcorn ceiling towering over him, a dimmed chandelier emitting a soft light that made him feel sleepy. ' _What was Ivan's deal today?_ ' He asked himself tiredly. Usually he wasn't the type to hesitate, to take a pause like that for so long. Especially since he had ripped off his tie..

"Haaa.." he groaned softly, covering his face as he felt the blood coiling into his cheeks. Slowly, he slid his body to lie onto the bed and he curled into a ball. He was so angry, that he just did it without thinking. ' _Ah crap, that's embarrassing._ '

Nonetheless, he stared out through the cracks of where his fingers separated, observing how the light softly glowed through them. His mind wandered back to Ivan, furrowing his brows slightly. He shifted a bit, making himself a bit more comfortable. There was something off about the Russian today, like he wasn't his usual cocky self.

' _Maybe he finally came to his senses?_ ' He thought questioningly, before immediately swiping it away. ' _No, no what am I thinking. That's just more false hope._ '

The soft muffled sound of running water came from the restroom as he shut his eyes exhaustingly. Ivan was probably starting his shower now that he thought about it. He chuckled to himself, a small grin appearing onto his lips as his head sunk into the pillow. ' _I remember.. I remember how picky he was when it came to hygiene._ ' He started, the image of a baffled Russian holding up a piece of soap in his hand. ' _He was horrified when he found out I snuck in some cheap bar soap and expected him to wash with it._ ' He continued, the memory of him trying to grab the soap out of Ivan's hand between fits of laughter and trying to convince him not to throw it away. In the end, Alfred ultimately won, since there was no other soap.

"Hahah.." He laughed to himself softly, feeling his senses get blurry. He almost forgot that night. And the time where they snuck into a museum and nearly got caught. And that night where they explored the old haunted factory. "Man.. I was so scared.." his words started to slur as he snuggled into the covers a bit more. ' _It was nice while it lasted._ ' Even if he was reminiscing about it now, he couldn't forget the fact that it was already over between them. But he still couldn't stop himself from smiling when he thought about the time they had spent together.

His grin dropped after a moment, his ragged eyes opening only to look dejectedly down at the sheets. ' _Right.. It's all over now. He wasn't what I thought he was, and neither was I._ ' It was a bad relationship. No matter how many times they laughed and spent time together, it was a bad relationship.

Taking a small sigh, he shut his eyes again as he felt them starting to sting. Why was he disappointed? He should be relieved that it was over. He wasn't respected, he wasn't an equal there. ' _But it was nice.._ ' A voice whispered in his ear. ' _It was nice to challenge someone else just as strong for once. But it hurt not to be acknowledged as strong, especially from him.._ '

He clenched his jaw, feeling a small tear roll down. ' _Damn it, I should just forget it all._ ' He thought, trying to wipe what remained of his sniffling. Ivan was right if he was still crying about this all after a year had passed. He really was soft.

' _How long has it been since I've slept?_ ' He asked himself, feeling the drowsiness of him staying up finally starting to slip into his mind. ' _15, no 17 hours? Not to mention the lack of sleep I got the night before._ ' He yawned slowly, gradually getting more tired. It'd be fine if he just took a nap for now. Ivan usually took long showers and after their little anger-filled exchange, it'll probably be some time until he was finished. ' _Yeah.. yeah just a short nap..'_

It was a while until the sound of running water stopped. It was an even longer while until a man finally walked out in a white fluffy robe and dampened hair. Ivan stood hesitantly at the door frame, glancing around the hotel room. Though he stepped outside of the bathroom, his feet stopped only there as his eyes traced to where the bed was. Seeing as how the chairs, couches, and kitchen were empty, there was no other area where the American was waiting for him.

And that American was waiting for him with a blazing resentment.

"Ah.." He sighed quietly, placing a towel over his hair, trying to scrub the water out. Was this what people call, nervousness? ' _How unlike me.._ ' He thought, placing a hand over his neck. Perhaps it was just the overwhelming shock he felt seeing the American so angered. He hasn't seen him like that for some time now. Whenever he yelled, showed that sign of him, he was always defending other people. How odd that when he teased Alfred personally, he never made such a reaction. It was always someone else, as if they were somehow special. He grumbled lowly, trying to smooth out his hair after realizing how harshly he treated it. Seeing Alfred so fiercely trying to protect somebody so inferior, so undeserving, made him feel somewhat jealous. That attention, why were they the ones that received it? Why did he care so much about them?

Perhaps, he thought, perhaps Alfred only ever got like that when it came to people he loved? But seeing the American finally yell about him? He wasn't being protected. He wasn't sympathized with. No, instead he was ridiculed, word by word. Alfred didn't even say much, but in the end, Ivan couldn't even look him in the eye.

With a solemn expression on his face, he tore the towel off his head, tossing it onto the couch. Ah but why dote on such thoughtless spectations? There wasn't much he could do to change the American's perspective of him, he doubted it. And even if he did use the blackmail in forcing them into being a relationship again, it would never be the same. ' _But would that be worse than not having him at all?_ ' He pondered, walking over to the bedroom with his usual smile.

"Fedya? You can use the.." He asked cheerfully, only to be met with the American, sleeping on the bed, snoring softly. He paused what he was about to say, as he walked up closer to him. "Fedya?" He mumbled out, peering at him oddly.

The American laid there, sleeping rather comfortably, seeing as he was taking up a lot of space on the bed. Ivan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He didn't think that his shower was long enough for Alfred to fall asleep so quickly. Could he then be, pretending to sleep?

Bending down, he watched Alfred's face closely, trying to catch any signs of deception. But the longer he squatted there, the more he observed how calm his expression was. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the image beneath him. Because he always wore a frown around Ivan, it's been such a long time since he's seen him like this. Undisturbed, gentle, and most surprisingly, quiet.

He exhaled loudly, as he hovered his hand over the American's shoulder. Even if he was sleeping, they met up here for a reason. It'd be a waste if they only slept wouldn't it? He was fine with that type of relationship.

Right?

His hand stayed in the air, unmoving as it was centimeters away from the American. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he couldn't bring his hand down.

Was this really fine?

Slowly, his hand moved away from Alfred's shoulder and towards his head, lifting up part of his golden locks with his finger. They felt like soft petals on a flower, each strand of hair falling into place. He held them gently in his hand, almost as if he was scared that he may awake him. Moving slightly, he sat himself in front of the American, laying his chin on the bed. Now that he looked closer, he could see darkened circles on Alfred's eyes wrinkling shadows onto his face.

He frowned at the sight, somewhat upset to see the American's face tainted.

"My dear.." He mumbled softly, brushing a thumb over them. Though he couldn't help but feel somewhat concerned, he smiled to himself genuinely. "Do you remember?" He said quietly. Alfred's slumbering figure didn't respond, as he expected. "You use to call me a walking cooler." His hand slowly cupped his cheek, fitting the American's face in his palm. "And you would always ask me to hold your face whenever it got too hot."

A memory started to play in his head, remembering how upset Alfred had got when he compared him to a large puppy. Though he adamantly refused to let Ivan hold his cheek again that day, something about him blushing to the side made the Russian feel that the nickname was just a bit too forward.

He chuckled to himself unknowingly, only pausing when he realized what he was doing. For a moment, he almost pulled his hand back and stepped away, but something inside him made him stop. This was the closest he has ever been to Alfred in months. And he knew that the American would never be so calm-faced around him if he were awake. He'd most likely slap his hand away and just scowl at the fact that he was even slightly touched by him. Ivan stared at him, furrowing his brows.

Was he _really_ fine with that type of relationship?

After all these years, he finally found someone who was willing to love him back. How did he even achieve that love in the first place? "You were always so loyal." He added, solemnly. Even after all the stunts he had pulled, Alfred stayed by his side no matter what. He probably even tried to force himself to turn a blind eye. "But then you left."

Ivan still remembered that day so well. The image of the American's betrayed face staring back at him as he shut the door after revealing his master plan. And the way he put his entire soul into that single punch. It was all so vivid, yet surreal.

"I suppose I underestimated you." He continued. Alfred still didn't answer. His chest rose silently as he slumbered, unaware of the man sitting besides him. Ivan stayed there for a while thinking to himself. He opened his mouth to ask something, but shut it after he couldn't find the strength to ask it. It wasn't as if he was going to have it answered.

Slowly, he got up and carried out a thick blanket, gently covering the American with it. And without a single word, he flicked the lights off. Even in the darkness, he could see the American's silhouette, still snoring soundly. A light smile appeared onto his face as he walked up to him, softly murmuring to his ear, "Good night Fed-" Before interrupting himself. After a moment, he continued again "Goodnight Alfred."

\------------------------------

_Leningrad, Russia_

_November 2, 1950_

_10:00 AM_  
  


"Mmh.." Alfred groggily opened his eyes, being met by the light of dawn pouring into the room. Being a night person, he had always hated waking up to the sight of drawn curtains, especially since the hotel room's windows were so large. Shutting his eyes again, he contemplated falling asleep again before noticing a fuzzy outline of a man standing in the corner of his eyes, buttoning up his shirt. Confusedly, he looked off to the side, squinting as best as he could. For some reason, his eyesight was so blurry, though he didn't remember taking his glasses off.

The figure seemed to hear the sound of the American's groaning, turning around to look at him. Though as blinding as the sun was this morning, it couldn't compare to the light that reflected off of the man's platinum blonde colored hair. He cringed at the brightness, feeling the need to cover his eyes.

"Good morning dear," The figure hummed, turning completely. Still half-awake, Alfred really tried his best to gather his thoughts. "you were wonderful last night."

Hearing that last part, he suddenly realized why exactly there was a man in his room. "Gah!" He yelled, jolting in place. Quickly, he pushed himself off the bed, hurting himself in the process but he could have cared less. "What..? Wait did we.. did we.." He stumbled over his word, patting the floor desperately. ' _Where are my glasses?_ '

The figure chuckled, walking towards him as it did. "I'm just kidding." It said, holding out what appeared to be the American's glasses.

For a moment, Alfred hesitated from reaching out before deciding to snatch it from Ivan's grasp quickly. He fumbled it in his hands, putting them on as quickly as possible. Now that he had them on, he could see that his pants were still on, much to his relief. But how long was he asleep for? "What time is it?" He asked, getting up from the floor.

"It's 10 AM." Ivan said nonchalantly, trying to neaten his tie in front of a mirror.

Alfred looked at him strangely, also realizing how warm the room was. "..You didn't wake me up last night?"

The grin on the Russian's face grew wider, a humorous tone in his voice. "Were you secretly looking forward to it?" He smiled, turning towards him again. Alfred's ears turned pink instantaneously, trying to rack his brain for something to refute his embarrassing claim.

Ivan sighed, flipping on his coat as he continued much more seriously. "You seemed tired, and truthfully I was quite tired myself."

The sound of the vent emitting warm air into the room droned on as the American stood there silently. Out of all the people to do something considerate for him, this was the least expected one. "Oh.. Thanks, I guess." He mumbled unsurely.

Ivan didn't acknowledge his thanks, swiftly walking towards the door, completely dressed in his suit. He gave him another sweet smile, moving his hand as he described the layout of the hotel. "If you head down to the first floor and take a right, you should be able to see the area where the continental breakfast is held. But if you would like to sleep more, you're more than welcome."

Somewhat startled by the overwhelming hospitality, the American shook his head awkwardly. "Ah, no, I'm just going to head out."

That didn't even seem to make the Russian falter, nodding at him with an odd amount of respect. "I see. Enjoy the rest of your time here."

Before the American could awkwardly give him his thanks again, Ivan left out the door, leaving the American somewhat confused. "What?" He asked himself, staring at the door. Did they seriously just sleep here without doing anything else? "Hah.." He sighed, not further questioning it. He wasn't about to complain about this. ' _But it's still weird._ ' He thought, picking up the jacket he threw the night before. ' _There really is something wrong with Ivan._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! We're seeing some character development huh? I finished this chapter early so I just thought, why the hell not. That brings and end to the blackmail part of the story, and now we're about to see what our protagonist has got in store for his buddy. I hope you're excited to find out what it is. Stay classy and much love.


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